


Perchance To Dream

by summersocietyy



Series: vienna. [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: But Everyone Gets A Happy Ending!!!, Drama, F/F, F/M, Fluff sometimes, Kidnapping, Mentions of kidnapping, Romance, WHO KNOWS!!!, angst sometimes, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24091705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summersocietyy/pseuds/summersocietyy
Summary: With two families dead, the BAU is called to Colorado to try and connect the murders. Something about the deaths seems familiar to Reid, but he can't quite put his finger on it. And when a familiar face shows up, it throws another cog into the machine, complicating things further.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Original Female Character(s), Emily Prentiss/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s)
Series: vienna. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727104
Comments: 34
Kudos: 116





	1. Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO FRIENDS!! this is.... gonna be the first multi-chapter fic i've posted in like ten years. bear with me please but i'mma try to get it updated weekly!!! ily all!!!

I _ was a child, and  _ she _ was a child, in this kingdom by the sea. - Edgar Allan Poe _

She isn’t sure how long she’s been walking. All she knows is that she can’t stop. Her feet are torn up from sprinting through the underbrush, then over a dirt and gravel road, and now solid pavement. Every step is agony, but she keeps going, knowing that she has to find somewhere or someone with a phone. Not long ago she’d spied lights in the distance, and she’s been heading that way since. As she rounds a corner, her saving grace comes in the form of a payphone outside a corner store in a small town. 

Grateful that emergency numbers don’t require any sort of payment, she picks up the receiver and dials 911, leaning heavily against the terminal until someone answers.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The voice crackles through the phone line, and she thinks she could cry.

“I’m at the corner of..” She glances up, squinting in the dim light at the street signs, “I’m at the corner of Shepherd and Walton Street. Please help me.” The hoarseness of her voice surprises her - but then, she supposes it shouldn’t. She’d given up on screaming long ago, had stopped speaking entirely not long after that. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been in that hellhole, or how long it had been since she actually spoke at all, but now that she is, her throat burns.

Very suddenly, she finds that her legs can support her no longer. As the dispatcher requests more information, she repeats her plea for help, and collapses onto the sidewalk. Her skirt puffs around her and she slumps tiredly, closing her eyes. A chill breeze blows across her bare back and she sucks in a breath, vaguely aware of the dispatcher’s voice promising that help is on the way and asking if she’s still there.

It isn’t long after that she hears sirens and sees the lights blazing as two cops and an ambulance pull up. They stop at the payphone, the EMTs immediately scooping her onto their gurney and pulling her into the ambulance. As she lays down and they begin checking her vitals, she closes her eyes, the ghost of a small, tired half-smile touching at her lips.

She’s done it. She’s gotten away.

****

Reid sits at his desk, fiddling with the picture frame next to his computer quietly. It’s one spot of bright and happy on his desk, something to break up the gray dullness of the rest of it - of the rest of the office, really. It’s a photo from Parker’s sixteenth birthday, when she had managed to convince him to go to a waterpark with her and her family, insisting that he needed a break from being a boy genius for a few hours. He hadn’t argued, because he knew he’d lose, and he had ended up having a blast.

In the photo, Parker is seated firmly on his back, his hands wrapped securely under her knees while her legs lock around his waist. Her arms are settled around his shoulders and she has her cheek smushed against his as they both beam at the camera. A few of her curls are blowing into their faces, and Spencer remembers with a sad smile the way they had tickled his nose and made him sneeze.

“You got a girlfriend you’re not tellin’ us about, Reid?” A voice behind him asks, and he jumps, startled out of his reverie. Morgan is standing behind him, holding his hands up to show he means no harm, and Spencer shakes his head, huffing quietly.

“What?” He asks, squinting a little. Brows raised, Morgan points at the photo. “Oh. No. Um - that’s my best friend, from Vegas.” 

“She’s cute.” Prentiss says, stopping behind Morgan. Spencer hums quietly, nodding. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention her.”

“I haven’t seen her in years.” He muses quietly, and sometimes he hates that he works with profilers, because the next question that hits him from Morgan is  _ what happened to her?  _ And he knows that Morgan can just  _ tell _ . “She went missing. Two weeks before her seventeenth birthday.” 

At that moment, JJ leans over the railing to tell them they have a case, and Spencer thanks whatever higher power there is because he can’t endure the pitying looks and the questions he’s sure they’ll start firing at him. He grabs his phone off his desk and pushes between Morgan and Prentiss, making his way to the briefing room silently. 

As he settles in his chair and focuses on the file JJ sets in front of him, he can feel eyes on him as Morgan and Prentiss come in, but he ignores them as hard as he can.

“What’ve we got?” Hotch asks, settling in his chair, and Spencer is glad the focus is off of himself. Looking up at the screen, he frowns as JJ pulls the photos up.

“The Rodriguez family of Lakewood, Colorado was found dead in their house this morning. Three of the four had been stabbed, one had been smothered with a pillow.” She says. Prentiss frowns, looking through the file slowly.

“Why the change?” She muses, looking back up at the photos. JJ shrugs.

“Nobody can quite figure that out. That’s why they called us in.” She says. “Two weeks ago, another family was found murdered in their homes, similar MO. Three stabbed, one had his arms and legs cut off, as well as his head, and the last one..” She sighs, grimacing and closing her eyes for a moment. “The mother was made to eat coals.”

“ _ Coals _ ?” Morgan repeats, eyes widening just so. “What the hell is this guy’s deal?”

“Well the way he’s going after families makes him sound like a family annihilator,” Spencer muses, frowning at his file. “But the different causes of death are interesting. Could we be dealing with more than one unsub?”

“It’s possible.” Hotch hums, gathering his things up. “But we don’t have any time to waste. We can discuss this more on the plane, we’re wheels up in thirty.”

  
  


He should’ve known better than to hope that he would get any semblance of rest on the plane, really. Spencer is content to just lay down and fall asleep on the couch in the back of the jet after they go over the case a couple more times, but Prentiss and Morgan sit down across from him and he can feel them staring at him.

“What?” He sighs finally, turning his head to look at them.

“Why didn’t you tell us about your friend?” Morgan asks, and Spencer sighs, rubbing his face and sitting up.

“I didn’t think I needed to.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been looking for her since ‘98.” He tells them shortly, rubbing his cheeks when their eyes widen. 

“We can help you look for her, Reid.” Prentiss says gently, and Spencer shakes his head. He knows that tone - it’s the same tone he’d gotten from the police when he had checked in with them monthly. The tone that said  _ sure we’ll look kid _ but meant  _ she’s probably dead it’s too far past the first 24 to hope for anything different. _

But somewhere in his chest was this consistent ache. Something that told him she was still alive, and that she was out there waiting for him. He’s not usually one to believe in things like that, but Parker had told him once about a Chinese story that said when two soulmates were brought into the world, they were attached to each other by a red string. The red string of fate, she had called it. And he had told her that logically and scientifically, that made no sense, and she had laughed at him in the way that only she could and he knew she wasn’t making fun of him.

_ It doesn’t have to make sense, Spencer, _ She had told him, hooking her right pinky through his and smiling at him.  _ Soulmates and love don’t make sense most of the time. But that red string of fate connects us. I can feel it. _ And she had squeezed his pinky and kissed his cheek and he had felt himself blushing but that happened most of the time when she kissed him so it was nothing new.

He holds onto that hope. That she was right, and that there was a red string of fate connecting them. And that that red string of fate was why he  _ knew _ she was still alive.

The Lakewood PD are more welcoming than other police departments they’ve encountered in the past, and they’re all more grateful for that than they can say. Almost as soon as they walk through the door, they’re informed of a girl who just showed up last night, and Hotch sends Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid to the hospital. He sends Rossi and JJ to the most recent crime scene and takes charge of setting up their HQ for the next few days with Garcia. 

Reid isn’t particularly looking forward to a twenty-minute car ride with Morgan and Prentiss, but he endures it. 

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” He asks after five minutes. Morgan jerks his eyes away from the rearview mirror and focuses out the windshield again. 

“Reid..” Prentiss starts, and he sighs. “What makes you so sure that.. Well, that your friend is still out there?” Reid sighs again, shaking his head. He’s heard this question a million times, he’s been told over and over again that he should give up looking for her and that she was probably killed a day after she disappeared.

“I just know.” He says softly, looking out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Prentiss open her mouth again and Morgan shake his head just so, and he appreciates the gesture. He closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the headrest, and listens as Morgan and Prentiss chatter quietly about the case for the rest of the ride.

  
  


“She hasn’t said a word since we picked her up.” Detective Jonah Harris says after introductions are made. “Called 911 and only gave the cross street and said ‘help me’.” Prentiss nods, looking over the chart as they walk. Morgan reads over her shoulder as Reid jogs up beside them, pushing his hair back. 

He peers around the hospital as they walk, wrinkling his nose a little - he doesn’t like hospitals very much, he never has. Prentiss fills him in, stopping at the nurse’s station to look over the chart better - she finds it’s easier to read when she isn’t trying to walk at the same time. She hums thoughtfully as Reid nods, peering over her shoulder and reading through the chart silently.

“What’s the name?” He asks, almost absently.

“Right now she’s just a Jane Doe.” Morgan says. “She hasn’t given anyone her name, we’re not even sure if she remembers it.” Reid nods again, leaning against the nurse’s station lightly and crossing his arms. “We’re hoping we can get more out of her soon. Maybe try a cognitive interview.” He glances down the hall as footsteps round the corner, and he straightens a little, touching Reid’s arm lightly. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. “Reid.” 

As Morgan grabs his arm, a flash of gold catches Reid’s attention and he glances down the hall as well, his eyes widening just so. It’s two braids that have caught his eye - two braids the color of honey held up to the sun. Slim fingers twist the end of one of the braids absently, a habit he recognizes without question. At the sound of the detective stating that she’s their Jane Doe, the girl looks up, and Reid’s breath catches in his throat painfully, because he’d know those green eyes anywhere - he’s been dreaming of them every night since November of 1998. He pushes away from where he’s leaning against the counter and takes two steps forward, eyes wide.

“Spencer?” She breathes, her voice hoarse and brittle. Swallowing thickly, he takes half a step closer, still staring at her.

“Parker.” He whispers. She needs no more confirmation than that, and she launches herself out of the wheelchair she’s in and stumbles into his arms. He rushes down the hall and meets her halfway, catching her easily and crushing her against his chest. Frail arms wrap around his neck in a vice-like grip and she presses her face to his shoulder as he holds her against him, burying his nose in her hair, and he can feel tears dampening his shirt. Her legs lock around his waist and he sinks into a chair that’s been pushed against the wall, before pulling away long enough to look at her properly. 

Cupping her face, he brushes his thumbs along her cheekbones delicately, drinking her in. A bruise under her left eye is turning from purple and blue to green and yellow, and there’s a split in her lower lip, but it’s  _ her. _

“He took me, Spencer.” She sobs quietly, curling her fingers around his hands. “He - he - he came, and he took me right out of my bed, and-” Reid shakes his head.

“I’m here. You’re okay, you’re safe now.” He whispers, sniffling, his own eyes brimming with tears. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He rests her forehead to hers, closing his eyes.

From down the hall, Morgan, Prentiss, and Detective Harris watch the two, three pairs of arms crossed over three chests, three pairs of eyes widening simultaneously.

“Is that.. That can’t be the girl from his photo?” Prentiss says incredulously, glancing at Morgan. Still staring at the pair down the hall, he nods.

“It is.” He murmurs, completely stunned. 

“I’ll be damned.” Prentiss says quietly, shaking her head.

“I haven’t seen her talk or even move that much since we brought her in.” Harris muses quietly, shaking his head. “Even when we picked her up. She looked like hell, just.. Sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. She looks a little better now, but she’s still seriously malnourished. We were able to get her cleaned up. She had to have a female nurse with her in the bathroom for it, but she wouldn’t let the nurse do anything to help her. And she didn’t say a word after she called us. Not until today.”

Prentiss shakes her head, rubbing her face slowly. “Well.” She sighs, watching the pair. “If anyone’s gonna get anything out of her, it sounds like it’s gonna be Reid.” Her phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, stepping aside and pulling Morgan with her when she answers. “What’ve you got, PG?”

“Not a whole lot.” Garcia says regretfully, frowning at her screen. “I ran everything you told me through the databases and there’s a lot of missing girls who fit the description you gave me.”

“Okay, uh - well, we’ve got a name now.” Prentiss says, glancing back down the hall. “First name Parker.” She can hear Garcia hum on the other end of the line, her fingers tapping away at her keyboard at lightning speed.

“Check missing persons reports from Vegas.” Morgan adds suddenly, leaning over. 

“Vegas?” Garcia repeats, frowning.

“She knows Reid.” Morgan tells her, watching his friend and the girl in his lap down the hall. Garcia gasps quietly, and Morgan knows she’ll demand to be filled in later.

“Mmm.. Oh! Here we go - Parker O’Hare, went missing from her home in Las Vegas in November of ‘98.” Garcia recites, staring at her computer screen intently. “Her parents were gone on a trip, so she was home alone, kidnapper hacked mom’s email and sent a message to the school saying she had the flu and they’d be keeping her home for the next week or so. She was sixteen.”

“Who reported her missing when she didn’t come back to school after a week?” Morgan asks, brows furrowed.

“I did.” 

Reid’s voice startles them, and they turn around, moving down the hall. Prentiss thanks Garcia and promises to fill her in later, following Morgan closely.

“You filed the missing persons report.” Morgan repeats, settling into one of the chairs. Reid nods as Prentiss perches in the other chair, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. 

“We grew up together.” Reid says, “Parker was the only one who never treated me like a freak, never called me names or teased me. She pushed Donnie Haskins off the swings once in second grade for making fun of me. He broke his nose the way he landed. Well, Parker was in second grade. Donnie Haskins was in fifth.” From her seat in his lap, Parker gives the ghost of a smile, her fingers brushing along the neckline of his sweater lightly. Prentiss glances at Reid and he nods just so. Shifting into Parker’s line of sight, she offers a gentle smile.

“Parker, can you tell me what happened?” She asks softly, smiling encouragingly when Parker looks at her. “Take your time.” She glances at Morgan and asks for a cup of water, thanking him when he brings it over and setting it in front of the blonde. 

“My parents were gone.” She says after a few long moments. “They’d gone to see one of my dad’s old college buddies. I was supposed to go with them but I had to stay home ‘cause I had rehearsals for the musical. We were doing  _ The Sound of Music _ . I was supposed to be Maria.” Her voice breaks a little, and Reid rubs her back slowly. Clearing her throat, she sniffs and continues.

“Um - Spencer walked me home after my rehearsal and stayed for dinner. We did homework and I took a shower after he left and went to bed.” She mumbles. She keeps her eyes on the floor as she speaks, her fingers curling around the edge of Reid’s sweater. He covers her hand gently, brushing his thumb along her knuckles. “When I woke up, there was this guy just.. Standing over my bed staring at me. I tried to scream but he put a knife to my throat and told me to stay quiet or he’d kill me.”

“And this is the man who.. Kept you?” Prentiss asks, watching Parker. She nods, glancing up at Prentiss. “Can you tell me anything else about him? What did he look like?” 

“I never.. Really saw him.” Parker whispers, looking back at the floor. “He never let me. I heard his voice, he talked to me a lot. But he never let me see his face. Every time we’d be face-to-face, he.. He had a mask on, or he’d keep a hood down low over his face.” She looks, meeting Prentiss’ eyes, and the older woman can see just how tired she truly is. “He made me call him William.” Prentiss nods, offering a small smile.

“We’ll find who did this.” She promises. “Can you tell me how you got away?” Parker furrows her brows for a moment as she thinks.

“He was.. Out?” She says finally. “I remember hearing.. Hearing a door open somewhere, and then everything was really quiet for a while. And he’d left - he’d dropped a pocket knife when he came into my room the night before, and I don’t think he realized it. He had me tied to a bedpost and.. And I got the knife and I was able to cut through the rope.” Prentiss nods, glancing at Morgan - they both know the question she has to ask next, and they both know Reid isn’t going to like it. And Parker won’t, either, and the last thing Prentiss wants to do is upset the poor girl.

“Parker.. I hate to have to ask this, and I know it’s an uncomfortable question.” She says gently, watching the girl as she looks up. “Did he ever.. Force himself on you?” Parker shakes her head quickly.

“No. No, never.” She says, “I always.. Expected him to, but he never did.”

She can feel Spencer’s hand tensing a little over hers, and she shifts her hand to wrap her thin fingers around his wrist gently. Morgan watches this interaction quietly, and any doubts he might’ve had about this girl being Reid’s long-lost best friend dissipate as he watches Reid’s hand relax while her fingers brush along the side of his wrist. 

Half an hour later, Reid had stepped away long enough to call Parker’s mother and make sure she could catch the next flight to Colorado. Prentiss had gone to a shop nearby to get the girl something other than a hospital gown to wear, and Morgan is on the phone with Hotch, filling him in. Spying Reid as he rounds the corner, he waves and jogs over as he hangs up the phone and tucks it into his pocket.

“So that’s your girl, huh?” He asks, peering into the room. Reid nods, watching as Prentiss ushers Parker into the bathroom to change and hovers just outside the door. 

“It’s from her sixteenth birthday. The photo.” Spencer tells him, exhaling quietly. “First time I ever went to a waterpark.” Morgan smiles a little, nodding, and puts his hands on his hips lightly. He watches Reid for a moment, then sighs softly.

“Listen, kid..” He says after a moment, crossing his arms when Reid looks up at him. “She’s not gonna be the same girl you knew. You know that, right?” Reid nods, turning his gaze back to the room and leaning against the wall.

“I know.” He says quietly, rubbing his face slowly. He looks up again after a moment and Morgan reaches out, squeezing his shoulder gently when he sees tears in Reid’s dark eyes. “I’m not dreaming, right? This is - I’m awake, this is all happening?” Chuckling quietly, Morgan nods and leans against the wall beside Reid. “I’ve had this dream.. A million times.” 

“I’m not surprised.” Morgan hums, glancing at his friend. “Losing someone you’re so close to, at that age and in that way.. I can only imagine.” Reid nods and moves to perch in a chair, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ve had so many different versions of this dream.” He mutters, hanging his head for a moment. Morgan sits beside him in another chair and waits patiently. “There've been versions of it where.. Almost this exact thing happens. There are versions where I get a call in the middle of the night and it’s her, or when she just walks through the front door of my apartment like nothing ever happened. And then..” Swallowing thickly, he looks over his shoulder and watches as Parker comes out of the bathroom and thanks Prentiss, looking much more comfortable in a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. 

“Then?” Morgan prompts, tipping his head. He already knows the answer, he’s sure, and he won’t push it if Reid doesn’t want to talk about it, but something in the younger man’s face tells him he does.

“Then there are the ones where I find her.” Reid says finally. Morgan doesn’t need to ask what he means. “It’s like.. The most common one is I come home and open the door and she’s just - there. In the middle of my living room on the floor, and I can’t even tell how long she’s been there, but I know it’s her.” Reaching over, Morgan rubs his back slowly and sighs. “And - and I know how lucky this is. I mean, you know the statistics as well as I do, by all accounts she should’ve been dead 24 hours after he took her. But for some reason he kept her alive all these years, and I just keep wondering-”

“Why.” Morgan finishes for him. Reid nods, looking over and meeting Morgan’s eyes finally, and Morgan is struck by how tired Reid looks. “Go sit with her.” He says gently, waving a hand. “Prentiss and I’ll go back to the office and start working on a profile. We’ll fill everyone in. I’ll stop by your place and bring you a change of clothes later.” Smiling tiredly, Reid stands and lets Morgan hug him, clapping him on the back lightly and mumbling a thank you before slipping back into the room.

Prentiss comes out as Reid goes in, squeezing his shoulder gently and going to stand beside Morgan. They watch as Reid pads to the bed and perches beside Parker, brushing a stray curl out of her face. The look in her eyes and the tenderness in her tired smile tells Morgan everything he needs to know and he hums quietly, draping an arm around Prentiss’ shoulders and turning her around. 

“C’mon, we got a profile to start.” He says as they go. “Coffee on me.”

“I called your mom.” Spencer says softly, letting his hand fall from Parker’s cheek gently. “She’s gonna catch the next flight, she should be here tomorrow afternoon.” Sniffling quietly, Parker nods and takes his hand, brushing her fingers along the lines of his palm slowly. It’s a soothing action he hasn’t felt in years - something she’d done when they were teenagers to calm her anxieties. 

“Were they okay?” She asks quietly, glancing up at him. He hums thoughtfully, nodding after a moment. He’d told her before he’d stepped out to call her mother that her father had passed last year, had held her without complaint while she cried through that. 

“They struggled.” He says honestly. “We all did. But they did as okay as they could. They moved to Vienna a few years ago.” The smallest of smiles touches her lips and she nods just so - her favorite song, Vienna, had been the inspiration for the move, Spencer tells her. A crack of thunder outside catches their attention and they both glance towards the window as rain starts pelting the window. Parker shifts to the side of the bed, laying down slowly and keeping her hold on Spencer’s hand.

“Will you stay with me?” She whispers, and his heart breaks to see the fear in her eyes. He shifts to lay next to her and she tucks herself against his side, relaxing a little when he settles an arm around her and brushes his fingers through her hair.

“Nothing could make me leave.” He whispers back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She closes her eyes and rests her hand on his chest, just over his heart. Settling his free hand over hers, he watches the rain for a moment before she whispers his name.

“Read me something?” She asks quietly, glancing up at him. 

“I didn’t bring a book.” He murmurs, smiling a little when she laughs quietly.

“Never stopped you before.” She hums, closing her eyes again. He hums back, brushing his thumb along her knuckles and closes his eyes for a moment, flipping through his mental bookshelf and selecting a volume - one that he remembers is one of her favorites. Poetry had always been a subject she enjoyed, and though her favorite is Emily Dickinson, he knows she loves Poe just as much.

“It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea,” he begins, “that a maiden there lived whom you may know, by the name of Annabel Lee..”

He’s finished Annabel Lee and is halfway through The Raven when he realizes she’s asleep, breathing slowly, deeply, peacefully. Settling the stark hospital blanket over the both of them, he closes his eyes and lets her breathing lull him into his own slumber.

  
  


_ We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.  _ \- William Shakespeare

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. The Big Good Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have had the WORST case of writer's block but i finally finished chapter 2!! i'd been having a hard time figuring out when i wanted this to take place, but i decided that we're starting midway through season 5! so if you haven't watched past then i warn you now there will be spoilers ahead!! none in this chapter.

_Dream no small dreams for they have no power to move the hearts of men. - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_

  
  


Spencer wakes to the feel of a bony hand in his ribs and the sudden sensation of falling. He hardly has a moment to register what exactly is happening before he makes contact with the floor, all the wind knocked out of him as he lands with a solid _thud_. Parker’s green eyes appear over the edge of the bed a moment later, wide and tearful and apologetic as he catches his breath.

“I’m _so_ sorry.” She whispers, and Spencer can hear the mortification in her voice. He waves a hand, giving her a thumbs up and staying where he is for another moment before he sits up carefully. Parker sits up as well, offering a hand, and Spencer takes it, standing slowly and rubbing at his back. Parker grimaces, shrinking into herself a little.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and Parker merely blinks at him.

“Are _you_?” She returns, her voice slightly incredulous at the question. Spencer waves a hand.

“I’ve had worse.” He assures her, and it’s true - being shoved two feet to the floor from a hospital bed is nothing compared to all the shit he’s been through. “Seriously, Parker, are you alright?” She nods, but she doesn’t meet his eyes, and he frowns. Perching on the edge of the bed, he touches her hand gently, drawing back when she flinches away. His heart breaks a little, but after a moment, she reaches out and touches her fingers against his. He flips his hand, letting her settle her thin digits atop his, then curls his fingers around hers gently.

“I just.. I woke up and I thought it was all a dream.” She says quietly, not meeting his eyes. She focuses instead on his fingers, on the way he brushes his thumb over her knuckles delicately. He can hear tears in her voice, and he _hates_ it. “I was too scared to open my eyes at first, and then I felt you next to me, and I - I panicked. I thought I was still there and it was.. Him.” Spencer frowns.

“I thought you said-” He starts, but she cuts him off quickly.

“He didn’t.” She assures him, shaking her head. “But.. Sometimes he would come in and just.. Lay down next to me. And he’d put his arm around me and just lay like that for - for hours.” She looks nauseous as she speaks, and Spencer shakes his head, reaching his free hand out to brush a stray curl away from her eyes. She looks up, tears in her eyes, and Spencer feels his heart break all over again. Reaching out, he gathers her to him, and she lets him. She crawls into his lap and curls up there, pressing her face to his chest, and he winds his arms around her tightly but gently, rocking with her slowly.

The rocking is an ingrained habit, a self-soothing technique he used to use - and still does sometimes, if he’s being totally honest - when he was feeling overstimulated. And Parker’s never minded it. He can’t count how many times she’d sit beside him in the park or one of their yards, her little arms around him, rocking with him and humming into his shoulder. As they’d gotten older and their dynamic had changed just so, it had shifted from her sitting beside him, to him sitting between her legs, his back to her chest. She’d prop her feet in the grass or on the rug or mattress and lock her arms around him securely, her knees pressing against his shoulders gently but firmly while he wrapped his arms around her calves and closed his eyes. And then she would just rock back and forth or side to side with him, humming into his hair until he felt like he could deal with the rest of the world again.

He cups her head and presses a kiss to the top of it gently, closing his eyes. He can feel Parker relaxing against him, little by little as he rocks her and rubs her back. 

“I missed you.” She whispers after a while, tipping her head up to look at him. He looks down and meets her gaze, humming softly. “I was so scared I’d never see you again.” Brushing his fingers against her cheek delicately, he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“I missed you, too. So much.” He murmurs, resting his forehead to hers. He closes his eyes when he feels her reach up and touch his cheek, swallowing thickly. “I never stopped looking for you.”

“You never thought I was-” She starts, leaning back a little when he shakes his head. 

He brushes her hair back and lets his fingertips rest against her cheek gently. “D’you remember,” He says softly, “How you

used to tell me about reincarnation? And past lives and things like that?” He nods when she does, letting his hand fall gently to the back of her neck, his thumb brushing along her jaw gently. “You used to say that we’d known each other before. In past lives, and we were tied together with that red string, and that was why we connected the way we did when we met.”

“You never believed in any of that.” She murmurs, brows furrowing just so. He shakes his head.

“I believed in you, though.” He tells her. “And I had to let myself believe in something that seems impossible. All this time, I could.. It was like I could _feel_ that you were alive. Like nothing had severed that connection you always talked about.” Smiling a little, Parker sniffles and closes her eyes. Spencer kisses the top of her head again and she exhales quietly. He can feel her relaxing in his arms, and he hums softly. “You fell asleep in the middle of The Raven.”

“I’m terribly sorry.” She hums, and he can hear the half-smile in her voice. “Will you ever forgive me?”

“I suppose so.” He says, doing his best to sound dejected. When she looks up at him with a real smile, his heart swells in his chest, and he returns it gently, humming when she leans up to kiss his cheek. 

A knock at the doorway startles them both, and they look up to see Morgan standing there, his brows raised slightly.

“Am I interrupting?” He asks, his tone teasing. Spencer shakes his head and waves Morgan in, shifting carefully so Parker is in view. Morgan offers Parker a warm smile, setting a duffle bag on the couch in the corner. “I brought you a few changes. Figured you wouldn’t be leavin’ anytime soon.” Spencer nods his appreciation, one hand rubbing slow circles in the center of Parker’s back.

“This is my friend, Derek Morgan.” He tells her, nodding when she does.

“You were with Agent Prentiss before, right?” She says. Morgan nods and offers a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you.” He says earnestly, then grimaces a little. “I wish it were under better circumstances, but.” She nods, indicating that she wishes the same, and he shrugs a little. “Hey, we’re gonna find the man who did this. I promise.” Parker smiles a little, nodding again.

“Did you guys get a profile worked up?” Spencer asks, looking up. Parker looks between him and Morgan as they chatter for a few minutes about profiles and something they keep calling unsubs, and she doesn’t ask questions. Instead, she tucks her head to Spencer’s shoulder and closes her eyes, half-listening as they finish their conversation and Morgan bids them a quiet goodbye. She hums in response. Spencer twists one of her curls around his finger absently and she peeks one eye open, peering up at him.

He feels her gaze after a moment, and he looks down, tipping his head. “Are you getting tired again?” He asks softly, and she shakes her head. She’s not ready to go back to sleep and have nightmares about her captivity. 

“I always knew you’d do great things.” She tells him. He furrows his brows, tipping his head to the other side. She shifts in his lap a little so she can see him better, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes. “I thought about you every day. Imagined what you were doing, what you might be studying.”

“I have three PhDs.” He says, and Parker lets out a genuine, if quiet, laugh.

“Of course you do.” She murmurs, brushing his cheek. She watches him for a long moment, her hand against his cheek, and sighs softly. “I’m proud of you.” A small smile touches Spencer’s lips and he touches her wrist gently. 

****

They’ve been laying side-by-side in Parker’s bed for most of the day when her mother arrives. Spencer hears her first, and he sits up from where he’s been showing Parker the joys of the iPhone, slipping off the bed as Parker sits up as well. He leans into the hall and waves.

“Mrs. O’Hare - Caroline.” He calls, moving further into the hall. Caroline O’Hare hurries to him, throwing her arms around him tightly.

“Is it really her?” She asks frantically, stepping back and clinging to Spencer’s arms. He nods, then glances over his shoulder to where Parker is perched in the bed, twisting the blanket anxiously.

“We don’t know all of what she’s been through.” He says gently, “We still have to conduct a full interview. But she’s been asking about you.” Stepping aside, he lets Caroline pass him and pauses in the doorway as she moves into the room.

Parker looks more like her mother now than ever before. Growing up, Spencer had always thought she looked a little more like her father, but now that she’s grown into her features, he can see a much stronger resemblance to her mother - they have the same button nose, the same dainty chin, and if it weren’t for Parker being as malnourished as she is, he’s sure they would have the same round cheeks. Mother and daughter stare at each other for almost a full minute before Parker breaks the silence.

“Hi, momma.” She whispers, and Caroline bursts into tears and rushes forward, hugging Parker tightly. The younger woman clings to her mother, pressing her face to her shoulder and cries with her. Spencer, thinking it best to give the two some time to sit and talk, steps back and digs his phone out. Pausing at the counter to the nurse’s station, he requests that they tell Parker he went to the cafeteria if she asks, and steps into the elevator, jabbing at the button for the correct level.

“How’s she doin’?” Morgan asks when he answers Spencer’s call. Spencer hums, slipping through the doors into the cafeteria and perching at a table.

“She’s.. Okay.” He says after a moment, rubbing his face. “Her mom just got here. I haven’t asked her anything else yet, I figured it’d be best to do that at the station, or when you or Prentiss are here and can do a proper cognitive interview.” Morgan hums on the other end of the line and Spencer hears a door shut.

“And how are you?” 

He sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “Good?” He says finally. “Definitely good. I didn’t.. Ever think I’d get her back, and this was the last place I thought I’d find her.” 

“But?” Morgan prompts, and Spencer sighs again.

“But.. Part of me keeps feeling like this is too good to be true.” He says quietly. “Like - like this is all some kind of cosmic joke. Maybe I really am just dreaming, y’know?” Morgan hums on the other end of the line, and Spencer can practically see him leaning against some deputy’s desk, his arms crossed over his broad chest. The image almost makes him smile.

“Hey, I want you to do somethin’ for me, kid.” Morgan says. Spencer hums, giving Morgan the requested acknowledgement. “Go drink some of that crappy hospital coffee and tell me if you still think you’re dreaming.” Spencer laughs quietly, hanging his head, and Morgan continues. “I’ll come by later with Prentiss and we’ll do a cognitive interview.”

They chat for a few more minutes about the interview and the profile they’ve started, and Spencer thanks Morgan earnestly before he hangs up. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he hangs his head and sighs softly, rubbing the back of his neck. He gets into the line and selects a few options for himself and Parker, eyeing the coffee before he pays and heads back to the elevator.

****

When he comes back upstairs, Parker’s mother is perched on the edge of the bed with her, holding her hand and talking quietly. What they’re talking about, Spencer isn’t sure, but it warms his heart to see the two of them together again. They had always been close when Spencer and Parker were growing up. Parker had absolutely been a daddy’s girl, but she’d been just as much of a momma’s girl as well. Being the youngest and growing up with three brothers will do that to you, Spencer supposes. 

“The boys will be here tomorrow evening, they can’t wait to see you, honey.” Caroline is saying as Spencer slips back into the room. Parker looks up and meets his eyes, and he’s known her long enough to recognize with a simple look that the very thought of her three older brothers arriving overwhelms her.

“Caroline,” Spencer starts, pulling a chair to the edge of the bed, “I know that the boys are eager to see Parker, but I think 

it might be best if they come in one at a time when they get here.” Caroline looks at him, realizing for the first time that he’s returned. “Parker’s been through a lot, and there have been a lot of nurses and doctors and police in and out of her room over the past two days. I just think having all three of them in here at once would be.. Overwhelming.”

“Momma, I can’t wait to see them.” Parker says softly, squeezing her mother’s hand. “But I can’t see them all at once.” Caroline nods quickly, returning the squeeze.

“Of course, angel.” She says gently, brushing Parker’s cheek. 

Fifteen minutes later, and only at Parker’s insistence, Caroline leaves the room to go check into a hotel across the street. As soon as her mother is in the elevator, Parker slumps against her pillows and covers her face. Spencer smiles just so.

“She’s gonna bring all three of them by at the same time.” She mumbles through her hands. Spencer hums, moving to perch on the edge of the bed as Parker drops her hands.

“We won’t let all three of them in at once.” He promises, offering an apple. She takes it and fiddles with the stem, drawing her legs to her chest as she sits up properly. “A couple people from my team are gonna come by in a little while.” She looks up at him, dragging her thumb across the skin of the apple. “They wanna do something called a cognitive interview, if you think you’re up for that.”

“What is it?” She asks softly. Spencer hums, considering the best way to describe it.

“They’ll have you close your eyes and focus on your breathing and go back to the night you escaped. Maybe earlier than that, too, if they think it’ll help.” He tells her. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but it’ll be helpful. And it doesn’t have to be today, we can do it another day, too.” She shakes her head, rubbing her knees.

“I can do it.” She says, hoping her face displays more confidence than she’s feeling. 

“I’ll be right here the whole time.” He promises gently, offering a small smile. She nods and exhales, taking a tiny bite of the apple, and Spencer just watches her for a long moment. Maybe he should’ve gotten some of that coffee from the cafeteria, he thinks, because part of him is still convinced that this is a dream. 

He becomes less convinced when he takes a bite of his own apple and bites down on his tongue instead. He winces a little, doing his best to avoid biting the same spot again as he and Parker finish their snacks. They sit quietly for a few minutes, watching the clouds roll by outside.

“He liked Shakespeare.” Parker says suddenly, breaking the silence. Spencer glances at her, brows furrowed in question. “William did. Sometimes he made me.. Read monologues and stuff to him. He liked the tragedies - his favorite was Hamlet’s soliloquy.” She wrinkles her nose a little, quoting the speech in question. “ _Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them_.” 

“That helps more than you know.” Spencer tells her, nodding. She sighs quietly, rubbing her knees, and pulls her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around them tightly. He shifts closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and rubs her arm gently. “Anything you can tell us about him helps, Parker. No matter how.. Small or trivial it might seem.” He squeezes her gently, resting his cheek to her hair when she leans against him and closes her eyes. 

  
****

They’re still sitting like that five minutes later when Morgan and Prentiss show up. They separate, Spencer keeping his hand at the small of Parker’s back gently as Prentiss re-introduces herself. 

“Are you ready?” She asks gently, offering a smile when Parker nods. “Okay. Close your eyes, focus on your breathing.” Parker does as she’s told, shifting a little to sit cross-legged on the bed. She closes her eyes, her brows furrowing just so, and takes a deep breath. “I want you to think back to the night you got away, Parker. Think about the room he kept you in, what does it look like?” 

“It’s an attic.” Parker says after a long moment. “It has low ceilings, and.. There’s a bed in one corner.”

“Are there any windows?” 

“Yes. Just one. It’s a circle at the end of the room. But I’m tied to the bed - I can’t get to it.”

“Okay. Now I want you to focus on sounds. What can you hear?” 

Parker thinks for a moment, her brows furrowing thoughtfully. “Footsteps. Downstairs.” She says finally. “I can hear him walking around. It.. It sounds like he has boots on.”

“What kind of boots?” 

“I don’t know - heavy ones. They sound like the work boots my dad used to wear on his construction sites.”

“Okay, so he’s wearing work boots. What else can you hear?”

“He’s.. Going down to the first floor, I think. It’s quiet - and then a door slams.”

“So he’s leaving - can you hear a car or any kind of vehicle?”

“No, it’s silent. I think he soundproofed the window.”

“Okay, that’s okay. Look around the room, what else do you see?”

“The knife he dropped last night. I can reach it.”

“You used it to cut your ropes, right?”

“Yes. I cut them and - and he left the door to the attic unlocked.”

“What else can you tell me about the house?”

“It’s big. Really big. It’s like.. It reminds me of something out of Pride and Prejudice, it’s like a big, old mansion. But it’s.. Falling apart. Like he doesn’t take very good care of it.”

Reid frowns thoughtfully, glancing at Morgan. Morgan shakes his head a little in response, scribbling furiously in his notepad. Prentiss glances at him over her shoulder, then at Reid before she continues.

“How did you get out, Parker?”

“I just.. Walked out the front door.” She says, curling her hands in the blanket. Spencer frowns, covering her hand gently.

“What can you see outside?” Prentiss asks.

“The stars. I haven’t seen them in so long..” Parker whispers, her voice breaking. Spencer’s heart aches dully in his chest, but he keeps quiet. 

“What else?” 

“A field. And a forest. I went to the forest. My skirt kept getting caught on - on branches and stuff, and my feet hurt.. So bad.”

“You were barefoot.”

Parker nods, swallowing thickly. Prentiss glances at Morgan again, then reaches out and touches Parker’s knee gently. The blonde jumps a little, opening her eyes and wiping at them with the back of her hand quickly.

“Eventually I started running.” She says quietly. “I was scared he was gonna come back and see me and take me back there. But then I found a dirt road, and it led me to a real road, and I found the payphone.”

“You did great, Parker.” Prentiss says, offering a gentle smile. Parker nods, sniffling quietly. “Everything you’ve told us is gonna help us catch this guy.”

“You said before that he likes Shakespeare.” Spencer says, squeezing Parker’s hand gently when Prentiss glances at him. Parker nods.

“He likes the tragedies.” She says, and repeats what she’d told Spencer earlier. Prentiss hums, nodding again. 

“That helps even more.” She assures Parker, offering a smile. Morgan’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he excuses himself, stepping out of the room as he answers. He returns a moment later, grim-faced and tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“We’ve got more bodies.” He tells Prentiss quietly, and she sighs. 

“We’ll come back later.” She tells Reid, nodding when he does. Parker watches them go, rubbing her knees as they chatter quietly down the hall about the new crime scene.

“Do you need to go too?” She asks, glancing up at him. He shakes his head, and Parker frowns a little. “Spencer, you came here to work, didn’t you? You should go with them.” She can see the hesitation in his eyes, so she reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing it tightly for a moment. “Go. I’ll be here when you get back.” She promises softly. She tugs on his hand gently and kisses his cheek lightly when he leans down. When he straightens again, she pushes him towards the door gently, offering a small smile when he pauses in the doorway and glances back at her. “Go.”

Spencer catches up with Morgan and Prentiss, shoving his hands into his pockets and glances down the hall one last time before he steps into the elevator. As the doors swish closed, he can see Parker settling further into her bed and reaching for the TV remote. He remembers with a small smile the time she broke her arm when she was twelve. She’d been hanging upside down from a tree in her front yard, and then she’d been on the ground. Spencer, personally, had been horrified, and though she had tears in her eyes, Parker had just stared at her arm. 

He had been the first person to sign her cast, and she’d grinned at him and asked him how badass she looked the whole time he did. 

****

This crime scene is slightly less gruesome than the last, though Spencer hasn’t seen the other two crime scenes. There’s no evidence here of anyone having to swallow hot coals, at least. 

“The Washingtons.” Rossi says as they come inside, looking around the room slowly. “One stabbed, one poisoned, three we’re not sure about yet, but it looks like at least two of them had induced heart attacks.” 

“What the hell is this guy doing?” Morgan mutters, putting his hands on his hips. Prentiss steps away and moves through the rest of the house slowly, peering into each room. When she comes back to the living room, Reid is crouched by the eldest victim, his brows furrow. Standing up, he squints at the man’s face, then glances over his shoulder.

“Rossi, hand me a pair of gloves.” He says, pulling them on when he hands them over.

“What’ve you got?” Morgan asks, moving forward.

“I’m not sure yet.” Reid mutters, wrinkling his nose a little. Holding onto the man’s jaw delicately, he opens his mouth and reaches in, pulling out a folded piece of paper. Stepping back, he unfolds it and frowns. “ _The long day’s task is done, and we must sleep_.” He reads, before turning the paper so the others can see it.

“The hell does that mean?” Prentiss asks the room at large, frowning. Reid sighs, shaking his head.

“It sounds familiar, but I can’t.. Think of where I’ve heard it before.” He says, sounding frustrated. He glowers at the paper for a long moment before putting it into the evidence bag offered, and removes his gloves. They review the scene for a while longer before going outside into the rapidly cooling evening air. Prentiss shivers a little and stretches. 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a drink.” She says, grimacing. Morgan and Rossi quickly agree, Morgan pulling his phone out to text Hotch and JJ the invite as well. “You in, Reid?” The genius in question hums and glances over, then shakes his head.

“I’m gonna go back to the hospital.” He says, smiling a little when the others bid him goodbye. He heads down the street, tucking his hands into his pockets as he goes, and Rossi tips his head. 

“What’s at the hospital? He goin’ back to see that girl that turned up?” He asks. Prentiss’ eyes widen and she smacks Morgan’s arm lightly, ignoring his noise of protest.

“I thought you told him!” She says, then turns back to Rossi as they file into the SUV. She leans forward from the backseat as they go, smiling. “So, Reid was telling us yesterday before we got the case that he had a friend back in Vegas who went missing.”

“His _best_ friend.” Morgan interjects, glancing at Rossi in the rearview mirror. Rossi raises his brows, confusion etched into the lines of his face. “Y’know that picture he has on his desk? The one of him and that blonde girl?”

“I’ve seen it.” Rossi says, nodding.

“That’s his friend.” Prentiss says. “He’d never told us about her until yesterday morning - all he said was that she was his best friend, and she went missing in ‘98, a couple weeks before her seventeenth birthday.”

“Okay..” Rossi mutters, his brows furrowing.

“Guess who the Jane Doe who turned up at the hospital is.”

“No.” 

“Mmhmm.” Prentiss says, leaning back and looking proud of herself for building the suspense. “We were looking over her file and a nurse wheeled her into the hall and I thought Reid was gonna pass out when he saw her.”

“How do you know it’s her?” Rossi asks, frowning thoughtfully.

“She recognized Reid first. And when he recognized her, it was like something out of a movie.” Prentiss continues. “Her feet are all cut up from running through the woods and on gravel barefoot, but I’ve never seen anyone move the way she did when she saw him.”

“And we’re _sure_ it’s his long-lost best friend?”

“Yep.” Prentiss says, popping the p.

“I wasn’t too sure at first either, Rossi.” Morgan says, adding in his two cents. “But you know Reid. You know how he is about touch.” Rossi nods. “He had no problem letting her touch him. When we were interviewing her, near the end, he started to get all tense about some of the questions. And she touched his hand and he relaxed like I’ve _never_ seen before.”

“Does Hotch know?” Rossi asks. Morgan shakes his head. 

“Garcia knows. We haven’t told Hotch or JJ yet, but we’ll tell them tonight.” 

“How many times has Garcia asked to meet her already?”

“More than I can count, Rossi.” Morgan says, laughing quietly. 

****

Spencer catches a cab back to the hospital, digging into his messenger bag as they drive. He knows it’s in here somewhere, he keeps it with him all the time. He’s always considered it a sort of good luck charm, has kept it in his pocket or his bag every day since Parker disappeared. After a few minutes, his fingers close around the film canister, and he pulls it out triumphantly, opening it and peering inside. He exhales quietly and hops out of the cab when it parks, leaning in to give the driver some cash before heading inside. He’s heading for the elevator when he passes the gift shop and a book on a display catches his eye. He doubles back and peers through the window for a moment before slipping inside and taking a copy of the book from the display and carrying it to the counter. 

“Just this, honey?” Asks the kindly older lady behind the register. He nods, rocking on his feet a little. The register beeps as she scans the book and peers at the cover for a moment. “ _The Secret Garden_ , hm? One of my granddaughter's favorites. Eight fifty.” Spencer grabs a dollar-fifty candy bar and adds it on to even out the price and passes a ten over. Thanking the woman, he tucks the candy and book into his bag and heads for the elevator.

In the elevator, he fiddles with the strap of his bag, digging his phone out of his pocket when it buzzes. 

_Derek Morgan 8:39 PM_

_We have to tell Hotch about Parker. Is that okay?_

Spencer sighs quietly - he’d rather tell Hotch himself, but he knows Hotch has to know sooner rather than later, so he relents.

_Spencer Reid 8:40 PM_

_That’s fine. If he wants to come by and talk to her, he can tomorrow._

The elevator dings brightly and he steps out, heading down the hall to Parker’s room and pausing in the doorway, his heart jumping a little. He relaxes when she comes padding out of the bathroom and sees him, offering a small smile.

“Welcome back.” She says, perching on the bed. Spencer lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding and slips into the room, settling in a chair. “What are the chances you brought me non-hospital food?” He chuckles quietly and shakes his head.

“Well..” He says, then reaches into his bag and pulls out the candy bar. She smiles and takes it, looking up when he promises that they can order some real food as well and reaches back into his bag. This time he withdraws a book and holds it out. She takes it gently, brushing her fingers over the cover.

“ _The Secret Garden_.” She reads, and looks up with a small smile. “Is this for me?” Her smile grows a little when Spencer nods and she reaches out, taking his hand and squeezing his fingers gently. “Thank you.” 

“I have something else for you, too.” He says, taking the film canister out of his bag. Leaving his bag on the chair, he moves to sit beside Parker on the bed and hands the canister to her. Brows furrowed, she takes it and pops it open carefully, peering into it and gasping softly as she dumps the contents into her hand. In her palm sits a delicate silver chain with a silver circle in the middle, an _S_ hammered into the circle carefully.

“My necklace..” She whispers, looking up at Spencer, her eyes shining. He offers a small, almost nervous smile. “I thought I’d lost it when he took me.” Spencer shakes his head, watching as she sets the canister down and lets the chain slip through her fingers, her pointer finger brushing against the pendant gently.

“I found it on the floor in your mudroom when I went to check on you.” He says, taking it from her gently when she looks up at him. He settles it around her neck carefully, clasping it. “That was when I knew something was really wrong - I’d had this feeling, but when I saw this on the floor, I knew.”

“I never took it off.” She breathes, touching the pendant gently as it settles in the hollow of her throat. He nods as she turns around and throws her arms around him. “Thank you.” She murmurs into his neck, closing her eyes when he winds his arms around her. She leans back and wipes her eyes carefully, exhaling unsteadily as he runs his hands down her arms gently. “You know.. When he first took me, I prayed.”

Spencer tips his head thoughtfully - Parker, for as long as he’d known her when they were young, never had any interest in Christianity or other organized religions. She attended church on Easter and Christmas eve, but that was only at her mother’s insistence. Her father had always openly encouraged her to explore other options. _It’s like a cult_ , she had told him once, _like a socially acceptable cult_. He glances down as she continues.

“I thought that.. Maybe, if I prayed hard enough, and if I acted like I believed.. I’d get out. He’d let me go, or I’d escape, or.. Or something.” She says softly. “So I prayed. I asked God every night to help me get home. And I never got an answer. Or even a - a sign, like people say they do. So I prayed to other gods. Every god I could think of - Roman, Norse, Greek. I even prayed to Buddha. But nothing ever happened, so.. Eventually I gave up.” Spencer’s heart cracks in his chest, and he brushes his hand down Parker’s back gently, swallowing thickly. 

“Every night I was afraid that he’d kill me. Sometimes.. I wanted him to.” She continues, her voice breaking. Spencer feels tears prick his eyes and he holds Parker a little closer. “And then.. And then one night, a couple weeks ago, I had this dream.”

“What was it?” Spencer asks softly.

“I was standing on a street - I didn’t recognize it at first, but then I realized it was our street. In Vegas - I was standing between our houses.” She tells him. “And I could feel someone behind me, and I turned around, and.. It was you.” She looks up at him, eyes shining. “You were just.. Standing there under a street light, and you were smiling at me like I was just walking down the street like it was any other day. But when I tried to get to you, every time I took a step, it was like you got further and further away. No matter how fast or how slow I went.”

She swallows thickly, wiping at her eyes. “The next night, he dropped the knife, and the night after that, I used it to cut the ropes.” Spencer pulls her closer and hugs her tightly, pressing his face to her hair for a moment. Parker’s thin arms wrap around his waist and her fingers curl in the back of his sweater. “That was my sign.” She mumbles against his shoulder. “You were my sign. But I was scared that if I got to you.. I’d lose you again.” 

“You’re not gonna lose me.” He promises softly, kissing her hair. “And I swear, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.” He feels his phone buzz in his pocket, and he’s sure it’s Hotch calling him to ask about Parker, but he ignores it for now, choosing instead to let her shift in his arms and open her book. She reads out loud, her voice soft and still a little hoarse, but Spencer says nothing. He closes his eyes, and he listens.

_Never thee stop believing in the Big Good Thing and knowing the world's full of it. - Frances Hodgson Burnett_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i watched zugzwang for the first time last night and then again today with my mom and.... i am Not Okay so TAKE SOME FLUFF


	3. The Things We Don't Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY MOLY COW CHAPTER THREE IS HERE!!!!!!! i'm SO sorry it took so long to get this updated y'all. i got halfway through and couldn't figure out what the hell i wanted to do with this chapter. but it's HERE and i LOVE IT and i hope you do too!!! we get to meet parker's big brothers in this chapter and i love them so much.

_Nothing haunts us like the things we don't say. - Author Mitch Albom_

_Lakewood Police Department 3:30 PM_

Spencer’s been talking non-stop about his team and how great they are for the past four hours. Parker’s kept track. He started at 11:30, barely stopped to eat lunch, and then continued. And while she’d never tell him to stop or that he’s talking too much, it’s a lot of information and she’s starting to feel a little overwhelmed. That feeling becomes more prevalent as they round a corner - she had asked to walk despite her still-healing feet, glad to finally be out of the hospital and allowed to move around on her own, and Spencer had agreed, saying the police station was only a few blocks away - and the station comes into view.

She stops short at the corner, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. Spencer keeps walking for a moment before he realizes that Parker is no longer beside him, and he turns around, eyes wide and briefly panicked. He relaxes when he sees Parker hovering at the corner and moves back to her side. 

“Hey.” He says softly, brushing her arms. She looks up at him, tears in her eyes, and he pulls her to his chest. She follows his pull, closing her eyes for a moment and exhaling unsteadily. “It’s okay.” 

“Spencer, I don’t know if I can do this.” She whispers. 

“It’s okay.” He murmurs again, rubbing her back slowly. “They just wanna ask a few more questions. And I’ll be right there the whole time, I promise.” He dips his head to catch Parker’s eye, offering a small, reassuring smile. “Okay?” Parker sighs quietly, nodding after a moment. Spencer squeezes her shoulders and leads her to the station, nudging the door open and following her inside, his hand at the small of her back. He guides her to the conference room and stops in the doorway, knocking lightly. Five heads turn towards them, and Parker has never felt smaller than she does right now.

Spencer goes around making introductions. Morgan and Prentiss she knows already. He introduces a blonde, motherly woman as JJ, an older gentleman who reminds Parker of her maternal grandfather as Rossi, and at the head of the table is a man Spencer introduces as Hotch. Parker nods a greeting to each of them, staying close to Spencer as they move further into the room. 

“We have a few more questions for you, if that’s alright.” Hotch says, and Parker nods, twisting her sweater sleeve absently. Before he can guide her to an interview room, a chime comes from the computer beside him and he turns it around as a bright voice crows a greeting.

“I have updates, my fine furry friends, and - oh! Is that her? Reid, is that her?! Hi!” The blonde woman on the computer gasps eagerly, her blue eyes widening almost comically. Spencer chuckles quietly and nods. 

“This is our tech analyst, Penelope Garcia.” He tells Parker softly. Parker waves a little, wrapping her arms around herself again as Hotch clears his throat and Garcia gets back to the aforementioned updates. Parker looks around the room quietly, the case board in one corner catching her eye. As the rest of the team is absorbed in Garcia’s chatter, Parker approaches the board slowly, brows furrowed. The photos on it are hideous. Brutal crime scenes, things she’s never seen before except for on TV. And even then, they weren’t quite this bad. 

One photo in particular catches her eye, and she leans forward, frowning a little. Two tiny holes, barely bigger than pinpricks just below a woman’s collarbone. She looks at the photo beside it, a man with a knife shoved into his heart, his hand wrapped loosely around the hilt, and a woman beside him, a small vial resting in her fingers. In the background of the photo are two more men almost laying on top of each other. Parker is vaguely aware of the continuing conversation behind her as the realization dawns.

“So!” Garcia is saying, tapping away vigorously at her computer. “You were right, two of the victims had heart attacks induced with potassium chloride, and the other woman, the one who wasn’t poisoned, was bitten by-”

“Asps.”

Parker’s quiet voice surprises everyone in the room, and seven pairs of eyes fall on her. Hotch frowns, watching the girl closely.

“She’s right.” Garcia says, her voice wondering. “I’m looking into where someone might’ve gotten asps now, they’re indiginous to Egypt and pretty hard to get in the US.” 

“How did you know that?” Hotch asks Parker, crossing his arms. She peers at the board for another moment before looking at him.

“It’s _Antony and Cleopatra_ .” She says softly, looking back to the board. She touches the sticky note where Prentiss has scribbled the quote they found at the last scene. “ _The long day’s task is done, and I must sleep_ is from one of Antony’s monologues. And - and this one..” She points to a photo of the first crime scene, of the Miller family. The eldest son, dismembered, and the mother with burns all the way down her throat stare at her from the photo lifelessly. “This looks like _Julius Caesar._ ” 

Spencer moves forward, frowning at the board, the look in his eyes somewhere between confusion and frustration. “I can’t believe I didn’t put that together.” He muses quietly, stopping to stand beside Parker, who is still staring at the photos. Her heart thunders in her chest.

“That’s _Othello_.” She says, pointing at a photo of the second crime scene. “Emilia and Roderigo are stabbed. Othello stabs himself, and Desdemona is smothered.” She stares over the board for a long moment, and she begins to wonder if the rest of the room can feel her heartbeat in their ears the way she can. She feels her knees begin to buckle a little and Spencer catches her easily, guiding her to a chair that Morgan pushes forward. She sits heavily, eyes on the blue-flecked carpet under her feet for a long moment before she looks up. 

“I think it’s him.” She says quietly.

“Him who?” Hotch asks, moving to sit across from Parker. She twists her hands anxiously, looking up at him. When she tells him who exactly she thinks it is, he frowns thoughtfully. “What makes you think it’s him?”

“They’re Shakespeare’s tragedies.” Prentiss says for her. Hotch looks up at her and Parker nods.

“He loved Shakespeare, specifically the tragedies. He’d make me recite monologues from them sometimes.” She tells Hotch, rubbing her knees. “If I got them wrong..” She trails off, swallowing thickly.

“If you got them wrong..?” JJ prompts gently, glancing at Prentiss. She wonders briefly if they should take Parker to another room for this, because judging by the look on Reid’s face, she hasn’t told him any of what she’s about to say. He’s still crouched beside Parker’s chair, his hand on her knee gently, but she won’t look him in the eye and she’s twisting the end of her sleeve around her fingers.

“It depended on the day. Sometimes he’d just hit me, or kick me.” Parker says after a moment, keeping her eyes down. Nobody in the room likes the connotation of the word _just_ before she mentions the abuse, but they keep their mouths shut. “He didn’t smoke often, but when he did, he’d burn me. If he was in a really bad mood and I messed up, he’d - he’d use a belt.”

Hotch glances at Morgan and Rossi, exhaling quietly. Morgan moves from his stance behind Parker’s chair and crouches so he’s in her field of vision, offering a small, gentle smile when she looks at him.

“Parker, we’re gonna find the man who hurt you, and those people.” He promises softly. Holding out a hand, he offers another small smile when she touches her fingers against his lightly, and he squeezes her hand gently. “We’re gonna make sure he can’t hurt anyone again. I promise.”

****

Exhausted in every way imaginable after her interview with Hotch, Parker curls up in a corner of a couch in the conference room and closes her eyes. She’s half-aware of the goings-on around her, can hear people chattering quietly about the case, but she tries to push them out of her mind. Hotch and Morgan are talking quietly on the other side of the room about the rest of the questions she’d answered, and she thinks she hears Hotch say something about her escape.

“If it is the same guy, her escaping could’ve been the trigger for the killings.” Morgan murmurs, glancing towards the blonde on the couch. “Especially if he was holding her for so long.” Hotch nods his agreement, following Morgan’s gaze and sighing.

“That depends on how long ago she got away.” Hotch says quietly. “The hospital said she just turned up last night and there were no real signs of exposure, so she can’t have been out on her own more than 24 hours. I’m having Garcia look for any history or Shakespeare buffs in the area, as well as professors and teachers who could be our unsub.” He pulls his eyes away from Parker and watches Prentiss head for the door. She means to go after Reid, who slipped out almost as soon as they were finished with their questions and Parker curled up on the couch. As Morgan mentions coffee, Hotch nods and follows him out of the room, the two of them promising to return with a cup for JJ as well when she asks.

“Agent Jareau?”

JJ jumps a little, looking up from her computer. Parker is still settled on the couch, but her eyes are open now, and teary.

“Call me JJ.” She says gently, offering a small smile. Closing her computer, she moves across the room and perches in a chair beside the couch. 

“JJ.” Parker repeats softly. She fiddles with a thread from the couch for a moment before looking up at JJ. “Is what Agent Morgan said true? Did he kill those people because I got away?” 

JJ’s heart breaks a little and she shakes her head, reaching out to take Parker’s hand and squeezing gently. “No.” She says, her voice gentle but firm. “We don’t know yet if it’s the same man. But if it is, he killed those people because he’s a psychopath. Not because you got away from him.” Parker doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she nods, sniffling quietly. JJ squeezes her hand again and offers a gentle smile. “It’s a good thing you got away from him, Parker.” She insists softly. Parker nods again, still not looking entirely like she believes the other blonde, but she returns the smile with a tiny one of her own, and JJ counts that as progress.

****

Prentiss finds Reid outside, tipping her head at the sight before her. He looks almost.. Small, seated on a bench outside the police station, his head in his hands as his shoulders shake almost imperceptibly. She clears her throat as she approaches and he sits up quickly. She pretends not to notice as he wipes roughly at his cheeks with the backs of his hands while she perches next to him on the bench, watching the cars roll by. 

“She didn’t tell you about any of that before, did she?” Prentiss asks after a while. Reid shakes his head, rubbing at his nose a little. 

“I guess.. I guess I kind of _knew_ that she would’ve been through something like that.” He mumbles, leaning back against the bench. Prentiss glances at him out of the corner of her eye, her heart aching for her young friend. “I mean, he held her for twelve years, it only makes sense that he would’ve tortured her.” 

The words taste like vomit on his tongue, and he almost feels like he’s actually going to be sick. 

“But it’s different actually hearing about it.” Prentiss says for him, and he nods. Leaning over, she wraps an arm around his shoulders and hugs him tightly for a moment, rubbing his back as she does. She feels the smallest bit of tension leave his body and she leans back, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “She’s gonna need you to help her through it, Reid.” She says softly. “If anyone can understand even a fraction of what she’s been through, it’s you.”

Reid grimaces a little, knowing that Prentiss is referring to Tobias, but he nods. He tips his head back, watching the clouds for a long moment before he looks back to Prentiss. “I don’t think I ever really apologized for the way I acted towards you then.” He says suddenly. Prentiss laughs softly.

“You _were_ kind of a dick.” She says, smiling a little more when he does. Leaning over, she bumps his shoulder with hers lightly. “But it’s okay. You were struggling. I understand.” She reaches over, squeezing his hand lightly. “I’m glad you got the help you needed.”

“Thanks, Emily.” He says softly, returning the squeeze. They sit together like that for a few minutes, two friends hand-in-hand as people rush past them, busy with their own lives, completely unaware of everything around them. 

****

When Spencer and Prentiss come back inside, she makes a beeline for the coffee maker while Spencer slips back into the conference room. JJ, seeing his approach, slips out and squeezes his shoulder gently. He hovers by the doorway for a moment, watching Parker as she stares at the case board and fiddles with her necklace absently. Padding further into the room, he perches next to her on the couch, following her gaze.

“It’s him, Spencer.” She whispers. He sighs softly, rubbing her back slowly. “I know it is. I can - it’s like I can feel it.” When she turns to look at him, her eyes are red and he can see the remnants of tears in the corners. 

“Hotch and Garcia are looking into it.” He tells her gently. “No matter who he is, we’re gonna catch him, and he’s gonna go to prison for the rest of his life, I promise you that.” Or he’ll kill the bastard with his bare hands, but he keeps that thought to himself. Parker leans into him, resting her cheek to his shoulder and peering at the board for a few minutes. The only noise around them is the quiet chatter outside the conference room, and the occasional ring of a phone at a deputy’s desk. 

“Morgan said I might’ve been the trigger for the murders.” She says quietly. Spencer purses his lips and shakes his head.

“You’re not.” He tells her firmly. She sighs quietly, and he continues. “Parker, you only just got away two days ago. This all started two _weeks_ ago, there’s no way you’re responsible for the murders. And even if your escape had been the trigger, that wouldn’t mean it’s your fault.” Parker sighs again and rubs her cheeks roughly, closing her eyes for a moment. Spencer’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out. “It’s your mom.” Parker nods and watches as he answers the call and chats with her mother for a moment before turning back to her. 

“Your brothers are here.” He tells her. She exhales slowly, suddenly nervous and terrified and excited all at once. 

The trek back to the hospital seems to take forever, though Parker knows they get there in the same amount of time it took them to get to the police station. She stops short at the corner again, her eyes landing on her mother and the three boys - the three _men_ sitting with her.

Jeremy looks tired, but other than that he hasn’t changed much. He’s as tall as he ever was, towering over their mother and his two younger brothers. His dark hair shines in the sun and Parker thinks she sees a wedding ring glinting on his left hand. She wonders briefly if he’s married to the same girl he’d been dating when she’d been kidnapped, and if he’s got kids now. Is she an aunt?

AJ, the spitting image of Caroline, is perched beside their mother and bouncing his knees anxiously. He looks pretty much the same too. His hair is a little shorter, a little lighter, but his blue eyes have that same shine, his lips have the same constant upward quirk that she remembers from all those years ago. 

And then there’s James. Perfect, wonderful, beautiful James. James, with the same golden curls and green eyes as Parker. James, with the freckles across his nose and the spring in his step and the fight in his eyes. James, who’s one of the reasons she kept going all these years.

It’s James who sees her first. 

It’s like he senses her, and she’s sure he does because he’s always been able to. It’s a twin thing, they’d always said. He looks up and locks eyes with her through the thinning crowd, and they stare at each other for a moment. Half a second later, he’s on his feet and they’re sprinting towards each other, both glad that the people on the street have fully dispersed. AJ and Jeremy look up sharply as soon as James moves, both jumping to their feet, but they’re too far behind him to catch up.

Parker crashes into James’ arms, nearly sending both of them tumbling to the sidewalk. She clings to his t-shirt and tries not to cry for the millionth time in the past three days. Finding herself in Spencer’s arms again had been right. It had felt like coming home. She feels that again as James crushes her in the tightest hug humanly possible. She hears rushing footsteps as AJ and Jeremy join them, slower ones as their mother and Spencer approach as well. 

When James steps back and cups Parker’s cheeks to look her over, to ensure that she’s really there, that all of her is standing in front of him, she smiles at him. It’s a tired, weary smile, but it’s a genuine smile nonetheless. James lets out a breathless, tearful, disbelieving laugh and hauls her into another tight hug. 

“Fuck, Pickle. I missed you.” He whispers into her hair. She winds her arms around him again and presses her face to his shoulder, exhaling quietly and nodding. 

“I missed you, too.” She whispers back. He steps back after a few long moments and she’s passed on to AJ, then Jeremy, pulled into two more bone-crushing hugs before they all step back and take each other in. 

She wonders if she looks the same, or if she looks like a completely different person to them. Spencer had recognized her immediately, so she knows she looked the same to him, but to her family, to the people she spent almost every single day with for nearly seventeen years, she wonders if she looks the same.

She knows her hair is longer and a little duller than it once was. She knows her bright green eyes have dimmed some, and she knows she’s lost weight. Other than that, she thinks she looks the same as she did. She hasn’t looked in a mirror much since her return. Spencer appears beside her, his hands shoved into his pockets, nodding at her brothers in greeting. There’s a million questions racing through each of their minds, but Parker speaks first, directing her question at Jeremy.

“Do you have kids?” She asks, gesturing at his ring. He blinks and glances down, like he forgot the ring was there, then looks back up and nods. 

“Two.” He tells her softly, and she feels tears prick her eyes. 

“Are you still with Sophie?” He nods again, digging his wallet out of his pocket and passing her a picture from the bi-fold in it. She takes the photo delicately, looking over it slowly and taking it in. Jeremy and Sophie perched on the steps of a small townhouse, a little boy in Sophie’s lap and a little girl in Jeremy’s. 

“That’s Luke.” He says, pointing to the little boy, then to the little girl. “And PJ. They can’t wait to meet you.” AJ is next, and he shakes his head before she speaks.

“No kids here.” He says, smiling a little. “Just a fiancee. His name is Alex, you’ll love him.” Parker nods, returning the small smile and shuffling her feet absently. “We have two dogs and a cat.” Parker laughs a little, wiping at her eyes. She cries in full when Jeremy tells her that PJ is short for Parker Jude.

****

The reunion between siblings completely wipes Parker out. As they part ways and the boys go back to the hotel with their mother, Parker sinks onto the bench they’d occupied not long ago. Spencer, having stayed back and let the family reunite without intrusion, comes forward now and sits beside her, winding an arm around her shoulders when she leans against him.

“Tired?” He asks softly. Parker can hear the smile in his voice and she nods, stifling a yawn behind her hand. “How’re you feeling?”

“That was a lot.” She mumbles sleepily, blinking up at him blearily. He nods, rubbing her back slowly. She falls quiet again for a few minutes, and Spencer is starting to think she’s fallen asleep right there on the bench when she speaks again. “I don’t really know what I’m feeling. I’m.. Happy I’m home - well, kind of home. Back with you. And with my mom and the boys. But I’m.. I’m scared, too, Spencer.”

He holds her closer, pressing a kiss to her hair and closing his eyes. “What are you scared of?” He asks her quietly. She shrugs, rubbing at her eyes carefully.

“I’m scared that he’ll come back. That he’ll take me away again.” She says, keeping her eyes fixed on the streetlight flickering on across the street as the rest of the world dims around them. “But more than that, I’m scared of - I’m scared that I won’t be able to.. Reintegrate or whatever. I’m terrified that I’ll be too scared to go out and.. I dunno. Get my GED and try to go to college and get a job or whatever.” Her voice gets quieter and quieter the more she speaks, and Spencer almost has to strain to hear her.

“Parker, hey. Hey.” He says gently, dipping his head so he can catch her eyes. His heart aches dully when he sees the tears she’s holding back, and he pulls her close for another tight hug. She doesn’t wrap her arms around him, instead tucking them between the two of them and letting herself melt into his embrace. “I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you. And I’ll help you with everything. You’re gonna be okay. I swear.” 

“I don’t even know what I wanna _do_ anymore.” Parker says miserably, more tears springing to her eyes suddenly. “Before he took me, I was so sure I wanted to go off and study theater and acting, but now I don’t - I don’t know. I can’t do Shakespeare anymore, he _ruined_ that for me, and I _hate_ him for it.” She stands now, beginning to pace in front of Spencer, and he watches her, his eyes widening slightly as she raves.

“But that’s all I ever knew!” She continues, waving her hands, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks. “I wanted to act since I was eight years old, so I did, and then - and then I _didn’t_ for twelve years because I _couldn’t_! I couldn’t do anything except recite fucking Shakespeare monologues and now - now every time I hear them I feel like I could puke! That was everything I wanted to do and everything I wanted to be and now I don’t-” She falls silent suddenly, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the bench, and Spencer watches her for a moment.

“I don’t even know who I _am_ anymore!” She says, her hands coming up to cover her face as she gives in to the sobs that have been building like a tidal wave. They crash over her now, making her shake, and Spencer stands quickly, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pulling her against his chest. 

If he’s being completely honest, part of him is relieved to see this sudden show of emotions. Up until now, she hasn’t shown much of anything. Aside from the reunions with her loved ones and the terror in her eyes at the precinct, she’s been quiet and almost numb. And he understands, he does. It’s much the same as how he felt after Tobias, when the only thing he felt he’d had to turn to had been the dilaudid. The thought digs at the back of his mind that Parker could turn to something like that too, and it makes him hold her tighter. He won’t let that happen.

“Look at me. Hey, look at me.” He says firmly. He removes his arms from her shoulders only to move her hands from her face gently. When she lets him lower them, he cups her cheeks and brushes the tears from them with his thumbs delicately. He looks her over for a moment, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear gently before he speaks again.

“You’re Parker O’Hare. You pushed a fifth-grader off a swing when you were seven years old, and I’m pretty sure that if he’d tried to fight back, you would’ve kicked his ass. You broke your arm when you were ten years old and you just stared at it and told your mom you needed to go to the doctor while I freaked out. You held me together after the Harper Hillman incident. You kept me sane for ten years. More than that, you’ve kept me sane since the day we met, even when we weren’t together.”

She’s crying still, but he keeps talking.

“ _That’s_ who you are.” His voice softens now, and he feels tears prick his own eyes. “You’re Parker O’Hare, and you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. You’re my best friend, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Sucking in a breath, she wraps her arms around him tightly. He winds his arms around her shoulders again and presses his cheek to the top of her head. He can feel the raging storm in her ebbing away slowly, feel the fight and the anxiety draining out of her bit by bit. Her fingers curl white-knuckle-tight in the back of his jacket as she clings to him like a life preserver in the choppy waves. 

"You don't have to know what you wanna do right this second." He whispers into her hair. "You have time to figure it out. We have time." 

And he's right. They have all the time in the world.

_Now that I'm free to be myself, who am I? - Poet Mary Oliver_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im cryin i love parker's nickname so much y'all. my headcanon for it is that when she and james were babies, he had a hard time saying her name so he called her pickle a few times and it just stuck and now everyone calls her pickle. she has a special nickname for spencer that'll come into play later but i haven't figured out a nickname for spencer to call her just yet. lemme know if y'all have any ideas!!!


	4. Those Who Believe in the Beauty of Their Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY Y'ALL. i've had the HARDEST damn time with this chapter - i knew how i wanted it to end, but i couldn't quite figure out the rest of it!! but here it is!!

_ The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. - Eleanor Roosevelt _

Parker’s meltdown completely wipes her out. Fully exhausted now, she lets Spencer lead her back up to her room in the hospital. As he gets her settled into the bed and sinks into a chair beside it, his knee twinges painfully and he winces. Parker, burrowing down into the blanket her mother had brought earlier, notices immediately.

“Are you okay?” She asks, squinting at him. He nods, waving a hand. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” He says, smiling. The suspicious look in her eyes tells him she doesn’t believe him in the slightest, and he shrugs. “I messed up my knee in September. It still bugs me sometimes if I move it the wrong way.”

“What’d you do?” She hums. He debates not telling her, but he knows she’ll keep bugging him until he tells her, and if he doesn’t tell her, she’ll bug Morgan or Prentiss or someone else on the team - Parker is nothing if not persistent.

“I got shot.” He says simply. Parker sits bolt upright, her eyes widening as she does. 

“You got  _ shot _ ?!” She repeats, her voice incredulous. Spencer nods, shrugging like it’s the most casual thing in the world. 

“I work for the FBI, Parker. People shoot at me all the time.” He tells her. She scoffs a little, shaking her head.

“That doesn’t make it better.” She huffs. Spencer smiles softly, resting his chin in his hand and watching Parker for a few moments. “What?” She asks, squinting at him again.

“I missed you.” He says softly. Parker’s gaze softens a little, and she settles back down in her bed. Reaching out, she brushes a lock of shaggy hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear gently.

“I missed you, too.” She murmurs. Spencer smiles again, brushing Parker’s wrist. “So what happened? When you got shot?” She asks softly. Spencer hums, taking Parker’s hand and brushing his fingers along her palm slowly. He tells her about the case, about Hotch being missing for most of it, and about shoving the doctor out of the way and the unsub shooting him in the leg instead of his intended victim. Parker nods slowly as he finishes his story, watching their hands.

“The guy kept practically begging Doctor Barton to let him die, but he wouldn’t. He’s a good guy.” Spencer says. Parker hums softly.

“Is that why Hotch is all..” Parker searches for the right words for a moment and makes what Spencer is sure is supposed to be an intimidating face. “Mr. Serious?” Spencer grimaces and shakes his head. Parker tips hers curiously, and Spencer sighs.

“Do you remember ever hearing about the Boston Reaper?” Spencer asks. Parker nods, frowning thoughtfully.

“Yeah. It was way messed up - he’d been killing people for years, right? And he killed that girl but left her boyfriend alive in ‘96?” She says. Spencer nods, exhaling softly before continuing.

“Amanda Bertram and George Foyet, yeah. And then he just.. Stopped. The reason he stopped is because the lead detective agreed to shut down the investigation.” He says. He tells her all about Shaunessy’s deal with the Reaper, and about the Reaper offering Hotch the same deal. 

“Oh, my God.” Parker says quietly. Spencer nods.

“As it turned out, the Boston Reaper  _ was _ George Foyet.” He continues, nodding again when Parker’s eyes widen. “Foyet staged his own murder before we realized he was the reaper, and when we finally caught and arrested him, he managed to escape. Back in September, the same day I got shot, Foyet broke into Hotch’s apartment and stabbed him. He brought him to the ER at a local hospital and dropped him off with Morgan’s credentials that he’d stolen.”

“Jesus.” Parker breathes. 

“Hotch had to put his wife and his son into protective custody with the witness protection program. It worked for a while, but in November..” Spencer sighs, rubbing the back of his neck absently. “Foyet killed Hotch’s wife. We almost lost Hotch, too, because he got there before any of us and he killed Foyet. He’s been on his own with his son since then.” 

“God, that’s horrible.” Parker says softly, shaking her head. She gets it now, truly. Her heart aches dully for the stoic man she met at the precinct. In a way, he reminds her of her own father.

Eric O’Hare had always been tall and intimidating, and that had certainly rubbed off on Parker’s brothers - as well as on Parker herself, a little. Growing up with three older brothers played a key role in Parker being as fearless as she is, but her father teaching her how to properly throw a punch or where to hit someone so their nose breaks played a bigger part. Her mother often called her father a gentle giant, and she gets that same feeling from Hotch.

Tall and intimidating, yes. But kind and gentle at the same time. The earnest concern in his eyes as she’d relayed everything that had happened during her captivity had reminded her of her father, and she’d found herself wanting him to wrap her up in a tight hug and promise that everything would be okay. Spencer continues talking, but Parker finds herself tuning him out as she stares out the window quietly. 

****

The computer chimes in front of Hotch and he looks up sharply as Garcia’s face fills the screen. 

“Sir, I’ve got something!” She says quickly, and before Hotch can ask. He raises her brows, indicating for her to continue as JJ and Prentiss come to stand on either side of him. Garcia’s fingers fly across her keyboard and a photo of a studious-looking middle-aged man overtakes the screen. “This is Jacob Malloy, he’s an English and drama professor at the Lockwood community college. He fits the profile to a T.”

“What’s his story, Garcia?” Prentiss asks, glancing at her tablet as it chimes. She scrolls through the file Garcia has just sent each of them, humming absently. 

“He grew up nearby, his mom was involved in a lot of theater stuff. Dad wasn’t around much but when he was, it wasn’t pretty, that much is certain.” JJ muses, paraphrasing the file in her hands. “If his mom was so into the theater, it explains his obsession with the Shakespearian aspect of all of this.”

“Where is he now, Garcia?” Hotch asks, frowning thoughtfully. Garcia hums, tapping at her keyboard for a moment.

“His last known address was in ‘99.” She says, “I just sent it to your phones.” 

Hotch splits the team, telling JJ to stay at the precinct and calling Morgan as he hurries out with Prentiss. He instructs Morgan to meet him and Prentiss at the house and tells Rossi to meet JJ back at the precinct and call Reid. Morgan is at the house by the time Prentiss and Hotch arrive, and the three of them rush in -

Only to find the place empty and long since abandoned. They clear each room quickly and meet back in the room at the front, Hotch digging his phone out of his pocket to call Garcia. He calls JJ next and tells her to have Reid and Parker meet them back at the precinct.

****

Spencer’s cardigan dwarfs Parker’s thin frame as they slip into the precinct, Parker clinging to his hand tightly. Spencer brushes his thumb over Parker’s knuckles slowly, squeezing her fingers gently.

“Did they say why they wanted us to come back?” She asks softly. Spencer nods, glancing down at her as they near the conference room.

“Hotch said they think they’ve found our unsub - for your kidnapping and the murders. He wants you to see if you recognize him.” He tells her gently. Parker stops short in the doorway, looking up at Spencer. He stops beside her, tipping his head and watching her. “Parker, if you don’t think you can handle it-”

“No.” She says quickly, shaking her head resolutely. “If it’ll help stop him from hurting anyone else.. I’ll do it. I have to.” Spencer watches her for a moment, then pulls her closer and presses a kiss to her forehead gently before leading her into the conference room. She trails after him, hovering at the end of the table and nodding once when JJ gives her a gentle smile. She perches in a chair, chewing her lip nervously as JJ taps a few keys on the laptop in front of her. A picture fills the screen and Parker stares at it for a few moments, acutely aware of the seven pairs of eyes on her. 

“I don’t - I don’t know.” She says quietly, looking up. “It’s - I never saw his face. I only ever heard him talk.” The picture disappears from the screen, replaced with a paused video. 

“I found a video of him doing a monologue.” Garcia’s voice chimes in. Before Parker can open her mouth to say anything else, Penelope plays the video and the voice that’s tormented her for the past twelve years fills the room. 

Parker instantly feels her heart jump into her throat. Her fingers curl tightly around the ends of the sweater sleeves in an attempt to keep her hands from shaking - it does little good, because she can feel her entire body beginning to shake now. Her breath is coming in quick, short bursts, and before she comprehends what she’s doing, she reaches out and snaps the computer shut quickly. 

Spencer’s voice pushes through the fog of panic clouding her brain, his eyes swimming into focus as he touches her elbow gently. 

“Parker, hey.” He says softly, dipping his head to catch her gaze. She looks at him, tears welling in her green eyes.

“It’s him.” She whispers, her voice barely audible. “That’s him.”

Very suddenly, everything is  _ too much _ . The lights are too bright, the sweater is too scratchy, the noises of the precinct are too loud - even Spencer’s gentle hand on her arm is too much. She jerks out of his grip and jumps to her feet, practically knocking her chair backwards as she hurries out of the conference room. Spencer hurries after her, moving to stand in front of her.

“Parker, hey, breathe.” He says gently. Parker shakes her head quickly, running her hands through her hair anxiously. 

“I need - I can’t, Spencer, I need - outside-” She gasps. Spencer nods, but she rebuffs his offer to go with her. “Myself. Please. I’ll stay by the windows-” Before he can argue, Parker steps around him quickly and hurries outside, leaning against the cool glass of the window and putting her face in her hands. She runs her hands through her hair before pushing away from the window and pacing, first towards the door, then the alleyway. As she turns at the end of the building, she feels a pinch in the crook of her neck and swats at it, frowning curiously as the world goes dark.

Spencer watches Parker go, wanting to give her her space but unwilling to let her out of his sight. Her promise that she’ll stay directly in front of the windows at the front of the precinct alleviates his anxiety a little, but not much. As she slips out front and leans against one of the windows, he watches her run her hands through her hair and try to slow her breathing.

It’s understandable, her wanting to be out of the building as soon as possible. The way her breathing had quickened and her eyes had widened when Garcia had pulled up the video had told him she was on the verge of a panic attack, something he knows well.

Morgan calls his name and he inclines his head in that direction, not taking his eyes off of Parker. 

“Garcia said his last known address was in ‘99, but it was empty when we checked it out.” Morgan says. Spencer hums thoughtfully, brows furrowing. “What’re you thinkin’, pretty boy?” 

“Parker said he kept her in an old mansion out by the woods.” He says, finally glancing away from the window for a moment. “Have Garcia check satellite maps for anything that fits that description. She said it was in a field surrounded by woods.” Morgan nods, and when Spencer looks back to the window, his heart jerks into his throat and he sits up straighter.

Parker’s not there.

He stares out the window for a moment, waiting to see her come back into view - she’d been pacing a moment ago. When she doesn’t, he stands and pushes past deputies and detectives to get to the door. The rapidly cooling evening air stings his cheeks as he shoves the door open and hurries to where Parker had been thirty seconds ago. His heart begins to pound dangerously in his ribs as he turns on his heel. 

“Parker?” He calls, moving towards the alley at the end of the building. He’s glad for the lights on the edge of the police station as he moves down the alleyway, eyes roaming anxiously. “Parker!”

A glint on the ground catches his eye and he stops dead in his tracks, stooping to pick up the delicate silver chain lying half in a puddle. The small silver circle with the  _ S _ hammered into it confirms his worst fear, and he feels his throat constrict for a moment before he leaps to his feet and runs back into the precinct. He stumbles into the conference room, eyes wild, the necklace clutched in his hand like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Everyone looks up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Spence?” JJ says, approaching him.

“She’s gone.” He says breathlessly, his voice cracking. “He took her.”

_ Life is never fair, and perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it’s not. - Oscar W _ _ ilde _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as it is this is not the happiest i've ever been with a chapter BUT!!! it's HERE and im HAPPY IT'S OUT!!!


	5. Trust Yourself to the Water

_ Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you. - Hamlet, act 4, scene 5 _

_ November 3, 1998 _

“I can’t do this.” Parker whines, falling sideways into Spencer’s lap. He laughs softly, carding his fingers through her hair slowly and tapping her nose once. 

“You can, Sunshine. You know this stuff.” He says gently. Parker pouts up at him, catching his hand and pressing a kiss to his palm. He smiles softly, settling his hand against her cheek and brushing his thumb under her eye gently. “Why don’t we take a break and have something to eat, okay? Walk away from it for a bit.”

Parker nods and pushes herself to sit up, worming her way off the couch. Spencer watches her go with a soft smile, shaking his head fondly before trailing after her. He hovers in the doorway as she putters around the kitchen, gathering the necessary ingredients for two boxes of macaroni and cheese, then pads in and winds his arms around her waist from behind as she starts the stove. She leans into him with a hum, turning her head just so to press a kiss to his temple when he tucks his chin to the crook of her shoulder.

“You’re coming over for Thanksgiving, right?” She asks softly, turning in his arms and draping hers around his neck. Her fingers brush through the ends of his hair gently and he suppresses a shiver. “You and your mom?”

“I’ll be there. It’ll depend on how mom’s feeling, whether or not she comes.” He tells her. Parker nods, leaning up to kiss Spencer gently before turning back to dump the pasta into the pot as the water boils. “What should we bring? Just the usual?”

“Mm. That should be fine, yeah.” Parker hums. “Maybe a little extra? I think Jeremy’s bringing Sophia home.” Spencer  _ oooh _ ’s, and Parker giggles, nodding. 

With their food finally ready, they return to the living room, Parker perching in her usual spot on the couch and tucking her feet beneath herself as they eat. When everything is gone and Spencer pulls the math textbook back over, Parker groans dramatically and pouts at Spencer - to no avail. He pats her knee gently and walks her through the last of her homework, grinning proudly when she finishes.

“I told you you know this stuff.” He says, shaking her shoulder gently.

“Yeah, yeah.” Parker huffs playfully, sticking her tongue out. Spencer laughs softly and helps her clean up the remnants of their dinner, and she walks him to the door. Hovering on the stoop, she crosses her arms lightly as he turns around, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Only if you’ve got coffee.” 

Parker laughs softly and Spencer’s heart flutters at the sound before he leans down to press a kiss to her cheek gently. “G’night, Parker.” He hums. 

“Night, Spencer.” She says softly, brushing his arm and leaning her head into the kiss lightly. He smiles at her as he jogs down the steps and back across the street, waving before he slips into his own house. Parker sighs softly, a smile on her lips as she heads back into her own house and locks the door behind her.

She revels in being home alone - truly alone - for once. She puts the CD James had made for her into the player in her room as she shoves her things for tomorrow into her backpack, then bounces into the bathroom that adjoins her room to James’s and starts a shower. She doesn’t need to shampoo tonight, so it’s a quick shower tonight after she ties her hair into a bun. When she’s done in the shower, she brushes her teeth, washes her face, and twists her hair into two quick braids.

Padding back into her room, she stops the CD and switches the player to radio mode, finding her usual evening station and turning the volume down before she falls into bed. She pulls the covers up to her chin and burrows down, yawning, and falls asleep with thoughts of the musical, her parents, and her genius across the street.

  
  
  


They say that 80 percent of the time, when you wake up at night, it’s because someone (or something) is staring at you. Parker tries very hard not to think about this as she rolls over and squints at her alarm clock.

_ 3:15 AM _

Groaning, she rubs at her eyes and stifles a yawn, jumping when her eyes land on a shape in the corner of her room - her backpack on the chair, she’s sure. Just to be safe, though, she flicks the light on and sits up, rubbing at her eyes again. When she lowers her hands and her vision unblurs, she gasps sharply - it’s not her backpack on the chair.

It’s a person. A man.

A man she’s never seen before. From the looks of it, he’s middle-aged, tall and well-built, with a comedy-tragedy mask covering his face. She scrambles into the corner of her bed, pressing as close to the wall as she can.

“Hello, Parker.” He says softly. 

“Who the hell are you?” She whispers, fingers curling in her sheet. Her eyes dart around the room frantically, looking for some sort of escape, something - anything - she can use as a weapon. 

“I’ve been watching you.” He tells her. Parker feels like she could vomit.

“Who. Are. You.” She repeats, wishing she’d been smart enough to bring her softball bat upstairs and hoping that her voice sounds more confident than she feels.

“My name is William. I’ve come to take you home.”

Parker jerks her gaze back to the man -  _ William _ \- and stares at him for a long moment before she launches herself out of her bed. He stands quickly and is across the room in three quick strides, blocking her exit, and he pulls a gun before she can try to make a break for the bathroom door. Heart hammering dangerously, Parker throws her hands up, taking two steps away from William.

“What do you want?” She whispers.

“To take you home, darling, I told you that already.” William coos, leaning towards her. She grimaces, leaning away from him. “Come along, the car is in the garage.” 

The garage - they’ll have to go through the mudroom to get to the garage. Her bat is in the mudroom. Swallowing nervously, Parker nods and watches William open the door, shuffling out ahead of him and heading down the stairs silently. She prays to whatever higher power there is that he can’t hear the way her heart is pounding. She leads the way to the mudroom silently, eyes darting around for a moment before they land on her bat.

She moves quickly, jerking forward and grabbing the bat, then turning and hitting William as hard as she can in one swift motion. There’s a satisfying crack as the bat makes contact with his ribs, but before Parker can celebrate her victory, the butt of his gun connects with her temple and she gasps, dropping the bat. It clangs against the floor as she stumbles back and feels a hand close around her throat. She tugs at the hand desperately as her vision begins to swim, slapping at his wrist and trying to claw at his face to rip the mask off.

“Let me go!” She chokes, swinging her feet. Spots begin to dance in front of her eyes and she fights to stay awake. 

“You should learn now rather than later that fighting me is no good, darling.” William hisses. He drops her unceremoniously, and as he grabs her upper arm and drags her out of the house while she coughs and tries to catch her breath, the glint of her necklace on the floor is what finally makes her cry.

****

_ November 3, 2002 _

She’s given up on screaming. Given up on counting how long she’s been here. Given up on hoping someone will find her. 

She has no earthly idea where she is. All she knows anymore is the different renaissance-era costumes William shoves at her and the monologues he makes her recite. As Parker lays on her bed, her eyes find the scratches in the floor she’d made over her first year and a half - William has allowed her to have bobby pins,  _ so she can do her hair appropriately for their scenes _ , he says, and she hates him. She hates him  _ so _ much. And Parker O’Hare is not a hateful person - she can count on one hand the number of people she hates.

She hates the football team at her high school. She hates Harper Hillman and Alexa Lisbon. And now she hates William.

The sky is dark outside the tiny window at the end of her attic, and Parker burrows down under her thin blanket, shivering as she drifts into sleep.

She dreams of Spencer.

It is by no means the first time she’s dreamt of him, but it is the first time in months that she’s dreamt of him. 

In her dream, she finds herself in her backyard. Spencer is lazing in the hammock, and when he sees her and smiles at her, her heart clenches.

“Spencer.” She whispers. 

“Hey, Sunshine.” He says. Parker feels tears prick her eyes as she pads across the grass. He opens his arms and she crawls into the hammock, tucking herself into his side automatically and closing her eyes. Her head settles against his chest, her ear hovering just above his heart. The steady beat soothes her fluttering stomach and he presses a kiss to her hair, brushing his hand along her back slowly.

She tips her head up and watches Spencer, watches the way the sun catches on his hair, the way his eyelashes brush his cheeks as his eyes close. He opens them again and catches her gaze, smiling softly. “Penny for your thoughts.” He murmurs.

“I love you.” Parker breathes, her throat tight. “I never got to tell you, but I l- I love you so much.” Spencer lifts a hand and brushes her hair back gently before cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing under her eye and catching a stray tear.

“I know.” He whispers. “I know. I love you, too, Parker. So much it hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” She sobs, pressing her face to his chest and curling her fingers in his shirt as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry I never told you.”

“You have time.” 

Parker lifts her head, sucking in a breath and Spencer wipes her tears gently. 

“I’ll find you. I’ll bring you home, and you’ll have all the time in the world to tell me.”

And when he leans down to kiss her, softly and slowly and gently, he tastes like cinnamon and oranges. A door slams somewhere and Parker jerks upwards, ripped from the warm autumn sunlight of her Las Vegas backyard to the freezing attic of this dilapidated house in who-knows-where. 

When she remembers where she is, she chokes out a sob and lays back down, pressing her face to her pillow.

****

  
  


_ May 5, 2010  _

He dropped a pocket knife.

After William had come upstairs last night and they’d done their scene, he’d dropped his pocket knife. He hadn’t heard it hit the floor - and Parker hadn’t either, but she’d seen it glinting in the dim light from the lantern. As soon as he’d left and she was sure he was far enough downstairs, Parker had scrambled out of her bed, snatched the knife off the floor, and shoved it under her mattress. She wasn’t sure how she’d use it, but she knew she would. Maybe she’d use it to carve something into a better weapon. Or maybe she’d use it to stab William - or slit his throat, perhaps.

_ Oh, happy dagger, let this be thy sheath. There rust, and let  _ him _ die. _ She thinks viciously.

But as William clomps around downstairs and the heavy front door slams, Parker hatches another plan - he dropped a pocket knife, and she dreamt of Spencer, and she’s getting the  _ hell _ out of here. She waits a solid twenty minutes, wanting to be sure that he’s really, truly gone. The door downstairs doesn’t open, and she sees his headlights bump away into the night. As soon as the headlights are out of view, she snatches the knife from under the mattress and begins sawing at the rope around her ankle.

It takes longer than she wants to get the rope cut, and she’s panicking the whole time, waiting to hear the front door slam again, announcing his return. What sort of horrors await her if he comes up and finds her trying to escape? She shudders to think. But the door doesn’t slam, and when the rope gives, she lets out a sob and throws herself off the bed. She stumbles to the trap door and yanks it open, scrambling down the ladder and rushing for the stairs on the landing. She yanks the huge front door open and rushes into the night, a frantic sort of laugh ripping from her throat.

She doesn’t allow herself to dwell on the fact that she’s gotten away - because she hasn’t. Not yet, at least. She looks around frantically for a moment, then sprints towards the woods. Her heavy skirt catches on sticks and branches as she runs, and she barely registers the sticks poking into her bare feet. Her legs and lungs burn as she runs, but she doesn’t let herself slow down. The underbrush gives way to a dirt and gravel road, the tiny pebbles pushing into the soles of her feet as she rushes through the night.

When a paved road comes into view - and beyond it, what looks like the lights of a town - she lets out a sob and scoops her skirts up, pushing herself to run faster. Her entire body aches, protesting the movement, but she’s closer, closer, closer, she can see the lights getting bigger-

And there, as she rounds a corner, is a payphone. 

She stumbles to a halt beside it, jabbing  _ 911 _ and leaning against the booth heavily. A voice crackles through the phone and she sucks in a breath.

“I’m at the corner of... I’m at the corner of Shepherd and Walton Street. Please help me.”

****

  
  
  


_ May 9, 2010 _

When Parker wakes, it’s to the feeling of rumbling and the sound of wheels rolling across a dirt road. She lays where she is for a moment before opening her eyes slowly and taking in her surroundings. As she does, it all comes rushing back. The photo of Malloy on the laptop, his voice echoing through the speakers from the video monologue. The way her heart had started pounding in her chest and how she’d felt like the walls were closing in on her. 

Spencer had followed her out of the room immediately, and while she appreciated his presence, she needed a moment to herself. So she’d gone outside to try and catch her breath.

Now she remembers the pinch in her neck. She remembers her mind and her heart competing to see which could go faster. She remembers her vision swimming and a familiar voice floating to her ears, and then - and then nothing. Nothing until now.

There are ropes wrapped tightly around her wrists, and she can feel them rubbing her skin raw already. She pushes herself up and rubs at her head, looking out the window in the back of the van she’s been dumped into, and her heart skips a beat when she realizes where she is - back at the woods. At the house. Which means that William - Jacob Malloy - is the one driving. She turns around and debates sneaking up behind him and wrapping her arms around his neck, using her bound wrists to her advantage to incapacitate him. 

It’s no use, though, she realizes as he throws the van into park. They’re already here. She watches Malloy climb out and move around to the back of the van, where he wrenches the doors open - and she sees his face for the first time. If he wasn’t a psychopath who’d held her captive for twelve years, she might call him handsome. But knowing who he is and what he’s done, the thought makes her sick to her stomach.

“Get out.” He says coldly. When Parker doesn’t move, he reaches forward and grabs the ropes around her wrists roughly, yanking her forward. She stumbles out of the van and stands, looking for a means of escape. Before she can try anything, however, Malloy grabs the ropes again and yanks her towards the house. Inside, he shoves her into a cramped room and cuts the ropes around her wrists. “Put the dress on.”

Parker glances over her shoulder to find the dress in question. She swallows thickly as he slams the door, locking it behind him, and turns slowly. She moves as though through molasses as she changes, pulling the thin undersheath on, then the dress. She cinches the sleeves accordingly, smoothing her hands down the skirt and exhaling unsteadily. The door yanks open again and she turns on her heel, startled. 

“Come.” He commands. She steps forward and he grabs her hands, winding new ropes around her wrists and tying them tightly. He turns and yanks her out of the house, following an overgrown path through the trees. She tries not to let herself be scared as Malloy drags her through the woods. She stumbles along behind him, her heavy skirt catching on branches as they go. 

“Where are we going?” She asks, shivering a little. She tries to keep in mind everything she’s heard Spencer and the rest of his team talking about in regards to situations like this over the past week and a half. Keep him talking, keep him distracted. Stall him until you can get away. “William, where are you taking me?”

“Shut up!” He commands, glaring at her over his shoulder. She winces a little when he tugs on the binds around her wrists. “None of this would be happening if you hadn’t run away in the first place. I would’ve found a different Ophelia.”

And as the lake comes into view, she understands - she is to be his Ophelia. 

He’s going to drown her.

“William - William, you don’t have to do this-” She says, suddenly desperate. “Please, I - I can help you find a different Ophelia. Keep me, I can be.. I can be your Beatrice! Or Hero, or - or Titania, I can be whoever you want,  _ please _ !” 

“Shut up!” He roars again, turning on her quickly. The back of his hand connects sharply with her cheek and she stumbles, gasping and putting her fingers to the stinging skin delicately. She can feel a drop of blood trickling from where his ring hit her cheekbone, and she looks up with tears in her eyes. “You are my Ophelia.” He says, his voice low and dangerous. He hauls her to her feet again and shoves her down the rocky shore, moving behind her slowly as she stumbles into the water. 

Before she can beg for her life again, his hands are around her throat and he’s shoving her under the water. She gasps sharply, and immediately regrets it as water floods into her lungs. When he pulls her up, she coughs and spits water out, trying to get a deep enough breath before he pushes her down again. She hits at his arms fervently, but she can feel herself growing weaker with each dunk. Spots begin to swim in her vision, and just before the world goes black, all she can think is  _ God ha' mercy on his soul!  _ _ And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye. _

_ To have faith is to trust yourself to the water. - Alan Watts _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: doesn't post for like a month  
> also me: POSTS TWO CHAPTERS IN THREE DAYS


	6. No Place Like Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen it's the final chapter but this is BY NO MEANS the end of the story ok we've got TEN MORE SEASON TO GET THROUGH FOLKS. there's gonna be a LOT more with spencer and parker!! plus hotch has to get a girl and emily has to get a girl WE'VE GOT SO MUCH TO GET THROUGH!!! this series will CONTINUE!!!

_The summers die, one by one. How soon they fly, on and on. - Musician Herbert Kretzmer_

Spencer Reid has never been a religious man. If there is a God, he’s often wondered why they would have let him suffer the way he did as a child? Why would they have let his tormentors harass him the way they did, why would they have let his _mother_ suffer the way she does, when all she’s ever wanted is to put love and light and happiness into the world?

And why the hell would they have taken Parker away from him? Parker, the one ray of sunlight in his life - it’s where he’d gotten her nickname from. His mother had always said _she’s like a ray of sunshine_ , and he’d always agreed. Parker is bright and happy and warm like the sun, and if anything happens to her he swears he’ll lose his mind.

People, religious people, have always told him _everything happens for a reason_. That’s crap, he thinks, because what reason was there for him to be tied to a goalpost at twelve? What reason was there for his father to leave when he was ten? What reason was there for him to be reunited with Parker, only to have her ripped away from him so viciously again?

Religious people have always told him _God’s will must be done_ ; that was Tobias Hankle’s whole thing. God’s will. As Morgan tears down the dirt road in the SUV, Spencer thinks that _God’s will_ is stupid and ridiculous and he’d like to give God a piece of his mind if _this_ is his will.

The SUV screeches to a halt, Hotch throwing the other one into park behind them as everyone hops out, drawing weapons and heading for the house. As they climb the steps, Spencer sees why Parker described it as something out of _Pride and Prejudice_ \- it looks like it’s been mostly untouched since that era. They clear the house and Spencer can hear his heart pounding in his ears.

“Where’s that brain, pretty boy, what’re you thinkin’?” Morgan asks.

“Shakespeare’s tragedies. He’s done _Othello, Antony and Cleopatra, Julius Caesar_ , and _Macbeth._ ” Spencer says, pacing slowly. “That leaves _Coriolanus, King Lear, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet_ \- _Hamlet._ ” He stops, his eyes widening, and yanks his phone out of his pocket, dialing Garcia’s number quickly.

“Boy Genius! How can I help?” She asks brightly.

“Is there a - a lake or a river or something near the house where Malloy held Parker?” He asks sharply. Garcia taps away at her keyboard quickly, chewing at her lip as she does so. 

“Yeah, there’s a lake about half a mile south of there, why?”

Spencer doesn’t answer, snapping his phone closed and shoving it into his pocket.

“He took her to the lake.”

He’s moving before anyone else can say a word, his legs pumping faster than he’s ever run. Morgan and Hotch are hot on his heels, along with the rest of the team. As the lake comes into view, Spencer spies movement a hundred or so yards away.

“Over there!” He shouts, pointing in the direction Malloy just took off. Emily and Rossi sprint after Malloy, following the sounds of heavy footfalls and snapping branches. Hotch sends Reid along one side of the lakeshore while he takes the other and Morgan goes straight to the water’s edge.

It’s Morgan who finds her. 

****

Emily doesn’t remember the last time she moved this fast - honestly, she’s not sure she ever has. She catches glimpses of Malloy through the trees as she runs after him with Rossi, her gun at the ready. When they stumble into a clearing and realize Malloy has trapped himself between them and the wall of a cliff, they slow their footsteps and move forward slowly.

“It’s over, Jacob.” Emily calls, watching him carefully. He looks around, as though he’s looking for a way out. Emily knows he won’t find one. His eyes flick between her and Rossi, a twisted smile touching his lips. “If you come with us now, we can work something out.”

She sees the look in his eyes - sees the moment that he realizes that there’s only two ways he’s leaving this forest; in handcuffs or in a bodybag. His eyes land on Emily again and he smirks. 

“The rest,” He says, “is silence.” 

With that, he charges at Emily. She wastes no time in firing at him twice, relaxing her stance only when he drops heavily into the grass. Footsteps coming out of the brush catch her attention and she turns, gesturing at Malloy’s body when the locals come hurrying out. 

“Come on.” Rossi says, grabbing her elbow gently and tugging her back in the direction of the lake. “I get the feeling the kid might need us.”

****

He sees the fabric of her dress first, and he’s launching himself into the water before he has time to think about it. His heart lurches at the sight of Parker floating in the water, the green gown wafting around her delicately as she bobs up and down slowly in the waves. He slides his arms under her knees and her back, scooping her up, and hurries to the water’s edge, screaming for Hotch.

He lays her down delicately on the rocky beach, vaguely aware of Hotch stopping Reid behind him as Reid lets out a broken noise. He wastes no time in starting CPR, pushing heavily for the chest compressions and blowing air into her mouth. He prays silently as he works, willing God not to take her. Other hurried footsteps on the beach alert him to the presence of the rest of the team, but he keeps working.

“Come on.” He breathes, pushing against Parker’s chest again. “Come on, sweetheart, don’t do this. Wake up.” 

Behind him, JJ moves to stand beside Hotch and Reid, touching Reid’s arm gently. Prentiss and Rossi stand shoulder-to-shoulder, watching anxiously. Hotch keeps his face stoic and stays silent, keeping his hold on Reid. Morgan won’t believe that Parker is gone. Not after everything she’s been through. After escaping from Malloy once, she doesn’t deserve to go out, not like this. Not here in this shitty forest, in this shitty lake.

He pushes again, and almost lets out a sob when she coughs suddenly, water spouting out of her mouth. He hurries to turn her onto her side, patting her back and helping her get all the water out. The tension in the air dissipates and Hotch lets his grip on Reid slacken. Reid sprints forward, dropping to his knees beside Parker and brushing her hair back as she lays against the rocks, eyes closed. Her hands curl around his wrists lightly and Morgan sits back, resting his elbows on his knees for a moment and hanging his head.

Reid helps Parker sit up and clutches her to him when she throws herself into his arms, sobbing. He clings to her like a lifeline, pressing his face to her shoulder, tears of his own adding to the lakewater clinging to her skin. He starts whispering apologies and she shakes her head against his neck, clinging to him tighter and curling her hands in the back of his sweater.

****

Spencer hovers by the end of the ambulance as the paramedics check Parker over. Aside from the bruising on her wrists and around her throat, she’s unscathed. His heart squeezes painfully as the paramedics step away and he sees her properly, wrapped up in an FBI windbreaker and with a heavy blanket from the paramedics around her shoulders. She’s perched on the back of the ambulance, her damp hair pushed over one shoulder, and she meets his eye and offers a tired smile. He tries to smile back, but he knows it doesn’t work.

She pats the spot beside her lightly and he pads forward, sitting next to her quietly. They watch the house silently for a few long moments before either of them speaks.

“I’m so sorry.” He says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. Parker shakes her head instantly.

“Don’t.” She says, her voice hoarse but firm. Spencer glances at her anxiously. “Don’t even start. This wasn’t your fault, Spencer, it was my own fault.”

“Parker-” He starts, but she shakes her head again.

“Spencer, I’m the one who wouldn’t let you come outside with me. If I’d let you come.. Who knows. This might not have happened. Or it might have happened and he might have taken you, too. Or done something worse to you, and I couldn’t-” She says softly, shaking her head and sliding her arm through his gently. Spencer sighs slowly, hanging his head, and Parker leans into him, resting her cheek to his shoulder. “I’m okay. I’m here.” 

Humming softly, Spencer winds an arm around Parker gently, holding her against him tightly and closing his eyes. She scoots closer, tucking her chin to his shoulder and offering a small, tired smile when he turns his head to press a kiss to her temple. They sit in silence, shut away from the chaos of everything around them for a few minutes before Spencer kisses her forehead again and wrinkles his nose.

“You taste like lakewater.” He says quietly, and Parker scoffs, feigning offense, and smacks his knee gently.

“I can’t imagine why.” She retorts. Spencer looks down at her, smiling softly, and she returns it easily, winding her arms around his waist and squeezing him tightly for a moment. “D’you think the hospital will mind if I use up all their hot water to take a three-hour shower?”

****

_Two weeks later_.

Parker is still adjusting to life at home. She’s been staying with Jeremy and his family in Vegas - along with her mother and Spencer, neither of whom will let her out of their sight - and realizing that she didn’t miss the heat. She’s been getting to know AJ’s fiance, Alex, and Jeremy’s kids - her niece and nephew. It still blows her mind that she’s an _aunt_ . That her big brother has _kids_. They’re all out at the park for the day, Parker perched on a bench as PJ and Luke sprint around after AJ and Alex. She smiles tenderly at the scene, then catches Spencer’s eye and jerks her head to the side. He nods and excuses himself from his conversation with Jeremy and Sophia, coming to stand beside Parker as she slides off the bench.

“You okay?” He asks softly. Parker nods, chewing the inside of her lip.

“Can we take a walk?” She asks quietly. Spencer nods, his hand settling at the small of Parker’s back gently as they slip away from the rest of their group. Spencer thinks at first that they’re just wandering, but it doesn’t take him long to see that Parker has a destination in mind, and he understands instantly as the gates of the cemetery come into view. She’s been putting this off since they came back to Vegas, but she knows she can’t do that forever.

They slip through the gates silently, Spencer’s hand lowering from Parker’s back. She slips her hand into his and he brushes his thumb along her knuckles slowly. She feels like she’s on autopilot as she heads for her family’s plot. Fifty or so feet away, she stops. Spencer stops beside her, looking down.

“D’you want me to come with you?” He asks softly. Parker shakes her head, exhaling quietly, and steps away from him. Spencer perches on a stone bench nearby as she approaches the headstone she’s looking for and sinks into the dry grass. She stares at it for a few long minutes, contemplating what exactly she wants to say. In the end, she settles for simplicity.

“Hi, daddy.” She says softly, sniffling. She swallows thickly, twisting her lip as she stares at the tiny dash between the dates of birth and death. “I’m home.”

Spencer watches from his spot on the bench, wondering if he should go sit with her. He decides against it - she needs to do this on her own. He takes in her body language, the way she sits with her legs criss-crossed first, leaning forward and picking at the grass. She talks to the stone for a while - something Spencer has never really understood, but he doesn’t question it - and when she finally sits back and pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them, Spencer stands and pads over to sit beside her, the grass crunching beneath his feet. She leans into him as he settles, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her arm gently. 

“He’d be proud of you.” He tells her softly.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

****

Jeremy has a hammock in his backyard, and that’s where Parker spends most of her time. Spencer finds her there now, one leg hanging out, the toe of her sneaker pressing against the tree one end is tied to so she can swing slowly, and an arm thrown over her eyes as she basks in the fading sunlight.

“Hey.” He says, stopping beside the hammock. She hums in response. “Jeremy says dinner’s just about ready. He wanted me to come let you know.” Parker lowers her arm, squinting at him in the sun, and Spencer raises a brow at her as she wiggles for a moment.

“Well, get in, dummy.” She says, squirming to adjust the hammock so there’s room for Spencer beside her. He laughs softly and climbs in carefully, draping his arm around Parker as she settles against him. He cards his fingers through her hair slowly, wrapping one of her curls around his index finger gently and admiring the way it catches the light as she rests her cheek to his chest. They swing together in silence for a few minutes before Spencer speaks, his voice just above a whisper so as not to disturb the quiet of the coming evening.

“Penny for your thoughts.” 

Parker hums in response, brushing her fingers along Spencer’s arm absently. 

“I want everyone to stop treating me like I’m gonna break.” She murmurs finally. Spencer hums curiously, glancing down at her. She looks up at him, lifting her head to rest her chin to his chest and watch him as she speaks. “I mean - I get it. I do. But I’m not.. I’m not a teacup in a china shop. I feel like everyone is panicking about saying something that’ll upset me or whatever, and I - y’know, I’m not _fine_ , but I’m okay. I’m not gonna shatter.”

“Everyone’s worried.” He tells her, and she sighs softly.

“I know, and I get it, Spencer, I do. But I just.. I wish everyone would stop treating me like I can’t handle anything anymore.” She says quietly. 

“Parker, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” He says softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear gently. “And we know you can handle anything. But you don’t have to. Not alone.” 

“I know that, but.. I want to. I have to be allowed to do stuff on my own.”

Spencer hums softly, tugging at one of Parker’s curls gently and watching as it springs back into place. “I know how you feel.” He says finally. She glances up at him, resting her chin on his chest gently as he speaks. “There was a case a couple years ago that.. Went south, let’s say. Everyone treated me like broken glass after, like if they said the wrong thing I was gonna shatter into a million pieces. And maybe I would have, who knows? But I got through it - and some of it, I got through alone. But most of it, I got through with the help of the people around me. My family.” Humming thoughtfully, Parker nods.

“That’s what family is for, right?” Spencer continues, looking down at her. “They’re there by your side through the good stuff, but they’re there for you through the hard stuff, too. And you have - you have your mom, and the boys, and Sophia and the kids. You’ve got me - and the rest of my team, I think Morgan might like you better than he likes me.” Parker giggles at that, shaking her head a little. 

“What am I paying a therapist for when I have you?” She says softly. Spencer grins, pressing a kiss to Parker’s forehead and holding her closer. He closes his eyes as she settles her cheek against his chest again, and as Parker’s breathing evens out, her breaths turning slow and deep, Spencer revels for the hundredth time at how happy - how _lucky_ \- he is to have her back. Before long, he’s sound asleep, too, lulled by the lazy swinging of the hammock and the quiet backdrop of crickets and coyotes in the distance, and Parker’s heartbeat against his ribs.

And as she sleeps, Parker dreams of her family, and her genius, and _home_.

  
  


_There’s no place like home. - Author L. Frank Baum_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> serious g for a moment here. i wanna take a second to thank everyone who's read and commented on this story. it's the first multi-chapter fic i've posted in like.. ten years? probably?? and all of your comments and warm words were SO encouraging. i really really really appreciate all of y'all who read this! like i said at the beginning, this is the final chapter but it's not the end! we've got ten more seasons to get through and i already have a handful of drabbles written/half-written so be on the lookout for more additions to this series!!

**Author's Note:**

> if you haven't listened to mgg read annabel lee and the tell tale heart.... do urself a favor bud. it's on spotify and youtube and i WISH he would do a recording of the raven :(


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